


Until Tomorrow

by rizascupcakes



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Romance, Young Royai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 52
Words: 147,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rizascupcakes/pseuds/rizascupcakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To change the world, one must pay a price. Roy Mustang, who dreams of becoming a soldier, does not fear for his life. He only wants to do right by his country and Riza Hawkeye, the quiet girl whose trust and friendship he is determined to earn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Alchemist's Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank Ria for being my beta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing. 
> 
> January 2016 update: this entire fic has been revised and edited since its original publication.

As he stepped off the train into the warm late afternoon air, Roy Mustang pulled a slip of paper from his pocket but did not bother to look at it; he knew the name and the address meant nothing to him. Instead, he glanced around to see if someone could point him in the right direction, only to find that the platform was empty. It occurred to him that this was the type of quiet village where nothing happened, despite the insistence of the novels he had read that these places were the most interesting; it seemed the perfect place for an alchemist to do his research in peace.

After spending what he could remember of his life in Central, he felt completely out of place here. Even East City, quiet though it had been when he had switched trains, had seemed far more like home. Slipping the paper back into his pocket, he began to make his way toward the town square. "Excuse me," said a quiet voice, "are you Mr. Mustang?"

Surprised, he turned to see a girl standing beside him, carrying a large sack with a few carrots protruding from the top. "I am. Who are you?"

She shifted her weight nervously and clutched the groceries tighter to her chest. "My father sent me. He said you'd need someone to show you to the house."

"I didn't know Master Hawkeye had a daughter," he said, looking at her curiously. From what he had heard—and that wasn't much, as was evident from the girl standing in front of him—Hawkeye had little interest in anything beyond his research. It was odd to think of such a man having a family. "What's your name?"

"Riza. I'm Riza."

"Nice to meet you, Riza," he replied with a smile. "I'm Roy—but you already knew that, I'm sure. I'd shake your hand but I can see they're both full at the moment. Would you like me to carry that for you?"

She blinked at him, and surprise flashed across her face for a moment before it resumed its neutral expression. "It's no trouble. I can see that your hands are full as well."

"Just the one and this isn't heavy." He lifted his suitcase to his shoulder, and let go with all but one of his fingers.

She ignored him, moving the bag so it rested against her hip. With one hand now free, she offered it to him and he shook it. "As I said, Mr. Mustang: it's no trouble at all."

Releasing her hand, he let his arm fall to his side and took a proper hold of his suitcase again, he flexed the very sore finger he had been using to support it, silently relieved that his finger hadn't given out. "I told you—it's Roy," he said.

"I'm not sure my father would approve. It's not polite to address an older guest by his first name," Riza hugged the bag to her chest once more.

Roy raised an eyebrow. "You can't be that much younger than me, can you?"

"I will be sixteen in September," she explained.

"Not quite two years, then. A bigger gap than I thought, sure, but definitely not enough to warrant a last name basis. But I guess, if it makes you more comfortable…"

"It does."

"I apologize for being so forward, Miss Hawkeye. I didn't expect to meet someone so close to my own age and I forgot my manners." He bowed and she narrowed her eyes. "I'm not going to try to kiss your hand, if you're worried about dropping your groceries."

Rolling her eyes slightly, she started to walk away from him. "It's a little outside of town. I hope you don't mind."

Did he seem like some rich city boy who couldn't be bothered to walk? Somewhat miffed, he followed her along the hard-packed dirt of what seemed to be the village's main road. As they approached the square, it grew more crowded, much more appropriate for a sunny Saturday afternoon than the deserted station had been. However, every person they passed seemed to be in a hurry; not a single one stopped to say hello.

"Strange town," Roy noted, turning to Riza as they left the village behind. "I would have thought everyone knew each other in a place like this."

"They do," she replied, her eyes on the distant trees as the road grew steeper.

Roy wondered how she could focus on something so far away without stumbling. Now that they had left the town behind, the road was littered with loose stones and softer dirt. "Are they wary of strangers, then?"

"What did you expect?" Riza asked, the corners of her lips twitching. "A festival in your honor?"

Somewhat taken aback by her response, Roy stopped to stare at her. "You know, for someone who insists on a last name basis, you're being pretty forward yourself."

"Ask a forward question…" She had stopped as well and turned to face him, the slope of the road bringing her closer to his height.

Roy laughed. "I guess that's fair. I didn't realize my question would upset you. I just wondered why no one said hello to you so I figured they must not like strangers."

"They don't." She tensed slightly as she spoke, her hands digging into the sides of the sack.

Noting her tone, Roy froze. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was unsure of what to say. She had already turned and continued walking, this time at a much quicker pace. He wanted to apologize, and he had at least thirty questions forming at the back of his mind, but he had a feeling that any attempts at picking up the conversation would be ignored. He was a stranger, after all, and he had no right to pry into her life, no matter how curious he was about his new master.

Not bothering to catch up to her, he simply looked out at the countryside as he matched her pace. The road had leveled out and one side was lined with trees. On the other, he could see mountains in the distance, beyond a large meadow of tall grass and even more trees. It was beautiful, he thought, but in a lonely sort of way. The road curved and he saw a house not too far ahead, surrounded by a tall, wrought-iron fence that attempted to separate the overgrown yard from the surrounding field and the woods not far beyond. From what he could see of the house, it hardly seemed in better repair than the yard. A small path branched toward it and Riza followed it, her pace slackening as she approached the gate. She shifted her sack but Roy stepped forward to open it. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome." He closed the gate behind them. "Would you like me to hold that while you get the key?"

She shook her head. "I left it unlocked. Very few people come out this way, and none of them come near the house."

When they reached the front door, Roy opened it and followed Riza inside, bending to remove his shoes before he even closed the door. "You don't have to do that," Riza told him. "Father isn't particularly fussed about the floors and I didn't have time to mop before I came to get you."

"Sorry."

"It's fine. I'll put this in the kitchen and then I'll show you to your room." She went through an open door at the end of the hall beside the stairwell, and feeling somewhat uncomfortable at the thought of being left in the entryway by himself, Roy followed her. He stopped outside the door; she had set the sack on the counter and had begun to empty it. "You can come in, if you'd like. I won't be long." He stepped into the doorway but hesitated to come closer. She removed the last of her purchases, then folded the sack and stooped to put it in the cupboard. "If you get hungry between meals, the pantry is there—" she gestured toward a door to his left "—and you can eat in here or in the dining room. If you need anything, call for me." She stood and closed the cupboard.

Roy stepped out of the doorway as Riza turned around. "Should I help pay for groceries, or was that included in the fee?"

"I believe it was included, but you should probably ask my father. If you prefer to buy your own food, you're welcome to," she told him, and as he looked around at the peeling wallpaper, he made a mental note to pay for as much as he could afford. "I'll show you to your room now." She twisted one hand nervously around her wrist as she walked toward him. He followed her back into the hall and up the stairs.

"The bathroom is there," she said, pointing at a door that stood slightly ajar. "I've hung a towel for you already. The pink one. I hope you don't mind; it was the nicest I could find."

"Thank you."

"You may put your things on the shelf above the sink if you wish. Or you can keep them in your room, if you prefer." She stopped in front of the only fully-open door in the hall and gestured for Roy to enter. "I left the window open because it was a bit musty earlier. It's been a while since Father's had an apprentice. He tends to chase them off and word gets around…"

"Should I be worried?"

She looked at him appraisingly for a moment. "I think you should be clever enough to keep up with him. And you don't…" she trailed off and he turned to see a faint flush creeping into her cheeks.

"I don't what?"

"You don't…scare me…the way the last one did," she muttered, grinding the heel of one foot into the toes of the other.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Roy asked, suddenly worried.

"No. I avoided him. He just seemed…cruel. Like he wanted to learn alchemy so he could hurt people…to burn them if they got in his way." She ran her fingers through her hair nervously, as though the fear of the memory was still fresh in her mind, her hand coming to rest at the nape of her neck.

Roy set his suitcase down and hesitated before saying, "I would never do that. Believe me. I understand if you don't right now, though." His eyes widened. "Shit! You had to walk all the way home with me and we'd only just met! I'm so sorry. I hope I didn't scare you too badly."

"You don't scare me. I already told you that."

"What would you have done if I had?"

She swallowed hard. "Given you directions and told you to go on ahead while I finished my errands."

"Good." She seemed so small. Not delicate, though. Just untrained, and part of him wanted to teach her how to defend herself, but he assumed that offering would only get him scolded for being too forward again.

She looked down at the floor. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Mustang, I have to make dinner." She turned to leave.

"Would you like some help?" he offered, taking a step toward her.

Surprised, she stopped. "What?"

"I have to earn my keep somehow," he joked. "Besides, I helped my aunt with it more than a few times and it's not like I've got anything better to do."

"You should unpack. You're a guest here. There's no need for—"

"But I'm not a guest," he countered, immediately feeling bad for cutting her off. "I'm an apprentice and my duty is to my master and his family. You shouldn't have to make dinner all by yourself."

"I'm used to it."

"At least let me keep you company."

She looked at him over her shoulder. "Maybe some other time. Tonight, I'm making a meal to welcome a guest and I want him to be surprised. I'll come for you when it's done." Pulling the door closed behind her, she left the room.

Roy turned and went to his case, thinking that Riza Hawkeye was too stubborn for her own good. Or perhaps, he realized, just stubborn enough to keep herself safe. He knew his place better than to ask Master Hawkeye how he could allow so many strange men to parade through and stay in the house with his younger daughter. Making a mental note to teach his future wife and daughters as much about alchemy as he could—hopefully more than enough to defend themselves—he picked up the case and carried it to the bed.

As he unpacked, he wondered if maybe Riza knew more about alchemy than she let on. He hoped she did, especially if her father's next apprentice was less than honorable. Then again, if he made a good enough impression on the master, it was likely there wouldn't be another new apprentice for quite some time. Roy strode to the window and rested his arms on the sill. There wasn't much to see: just more of the same woods he had seen from the road and a modest-sized backyard that was just as overgrown as the front. The warm afternoon breeze ruffled his hair as he leaned farther out the window. Judging by the sun, it was nearly five and he decided to freshen up before dinner.

Leaving the window open, he returned to the open suitcase and removed a clean shirt and his toiletries before leaving the room. When he opened the door, the faint scent of sautéing onions greeted him and he realized he had not eaten since he had left Central that morning. In the bathroom, he placed his things on the shelf Riza had mentioned.

He washed his face and dried it on the pale pink towel that was nowhere near as threadbare as the brown one that hung beside it. He saw only one toothbrush in the mug at the far end of the shelf. The bristles stuck out in every direction and the handle was cracked. He assumed it was Riza's and that the ragged towel was hers as well. He supposed by now she was used to sharing the bathroom with strange boys and men, but he couldn't help but feel guilty; she seemed so reserved that even looking at her toothbrush felt like an invasion of her privacy.

What on earth was he thinking about? Tired. He was tired. Between the train ride and the heat and the long walk from the station, he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep. He brushed his teeth lethargically, watching his reflection as his mind wandered back to Central. Saturday afternoons were his favorite. Aunt Chris had always insisted he was in his room by six, but before then, he kept busy: making certain that the bar and the dishes were clean, often running errands for his foster mother and the girls, preparing a dinner that everyone could eat quickly before they opened for the evening.

For the first time since he had left, Roy felt a twinge of homesickness. The woods were nice, but he missed the noise of the city. The house felt so empty with just three people and he wished Riza had allowed him to keep her company; he wasn't used to being this lonely. Even when he went upstairs for the night at home, the noise from the city and the bar had provided company. At least from here, he could hear the faint sounds of Riza cooking below, but they were practically silence compared to the boisterous conversations and clinking of glasses that he was used to.

He changed his shirt and returned to his room, leaving the door open so he could smell whatever it was Riza was making, even though it made his stomach growl. Only a few things remained to be unpacked and he noticed and envelope sticking out from the pocket of one of the shirts. He removed it, curious. The only writing on it was Aunt Chris's: "Roy-Boy." Carefully, he unsealed it and removed a photograph with "Mustang family, April 1886" written on the back. He turned it around and immediately recognized it from the photo album in the Madam's room. He had forgotten about it, not having had much inclination to look at it in recent years. But Christmas must have remembered all the hours he had spent in childhood looking at it as though his gaze could bring his parents back, if only for an hour.

Smiling slightly, he tucked it into the drawer of the nightstand and retrieved the envelope. He reached inside but it was empty now: Christmas must not have thought a note would be necessary.

The breeze gathered strength, ruffling Roy's hair again even though he was nowhere near the window. Folding the envelope, he got to his feet. The summer air had diminished the already-faint scent of dinner and he crossed the room to lean against the sill once more. He closed his eyed and tilted his head toward the sun, enjoying the heat against his face. Soon, he thought—soon, he might be able to feel the heat of his own fire. A smile spread across his face: after all these years, he would finally be learning alchemy. He opened his eyes and looked out over the trees, letting his excitement and the fresh summer air carry his homesickness away.


	2. Master and Apprentice

A knock snapped Roy from his thoughts. He turned to see Riza standing in the doorway, with her eyes on her shoes and her hands behind her back. "Dinner's ready," she said softly.

He made his way toward her, trying his best to give her a reassuring look on the off chance she decided to glance at him. "It smells great."

"My father will be joining us. You might want to make yourself more, ah, presentable?" she suggested, looking him over as she rocked back onto her heels. She seemed less reassured than he had hoped, but she did look at least a little more at ease, and that was enough for Roy.

He ran a hand over his hair to find that it stuck up in several places. "That bad, huh? Go on ahead. I'll get my comb." He started toward the dresser to look for it.

"Father doesn't like to be kept waiting. Besides," she added hesitantly, "it looks better now."

He turned and followed Riza into the hall, supposing that rumpled hair was a fairly easy flaw to overlook. Even so, as they walked, he ran his fingers through his dark locks until he was certain it wasn't humanly possible to smooth them any further without a comb. He noticed that Riza's gait was stiffer than it had been earlier and he had opened his mouth halfway to ask if she was all right before deciding against it. She would just accuse him of being forward again. Still, he couldn't help but worry as he realized her hands were trembling as well. Was her father the cause of this? Or was he? She had said she wasn't afraid of him, but he wouldn't blame her if she had changed her mind as night approached, carrying the threat of a strange boy across the hall as she slept—assuming, of course, that she would be able to. Suppressing the guilt that had begun to seep into him, he followed her into the dining room.

The walls were as bare and faded as those of the other rooms he had seen and the curtains were drawn to block out the fading sunlight. Mismatched candles stood on the table, illuminating the serious face of the man who sat at the head of the table, staring intently at his empty plate. He looked up. "Roy Mustang."

"Yes, master?" Roy tugged at his collar, wishing he could open the window. Between the candles and the food and the long summer day, the room was unbearably stuffy.

"Have a seat." Hawkeye gestured to an empty chair and Roy took it. "You too, Riza."

She bowed her head slightly and sat across from Roy. "I'm sorry it's not much. I would have made a pie, but the apples aren't ripe yet."

"It's for the best," Master Hawkeye said. "You'd only have burned it anyway."

Riza nearly dropped the serving platter but Roy reached across the table to steady it. She let go and he filled his plate before passing it to Hawkeye, who took only a small portion before returning it to Riza, who had managed to steady herself somewhat. She met Roy's eyes and he looked away quickly, mentally kicking himself for staring. His stomach growled as he looked down at his plate. Forgetting for a moment where he was, he began shoveling it into his mouth, not caring how hot it was. Once he had swallowed, he looked up to find both father and daughter staring at him. "Sorry," he said, wiping his mouth on a napkin. "I haven't eaten all day and this is delicious."

"I think you're just hungry, Mr. Mustang," Riza replied, though she looked rather pleased.

"If a man compliments you, Riza," said Master Hawkeye, reaching for a bottle of wine, "it's best to accept it graciously."

"Yes, Father." She looked down and stabbed half-heartedly at an onion.

Roy continued eating, somewhat less enthusiastic than before. He could feel Master Hawkeye watching him the entire time and said nothing until his plate was clear.

"Would you like more, Mr. Mustang?" Riza offered, nudging the serving platter toward him.

"Yes, please." He filled his plate and watched as Riza did the same. Hawkeye poured himself another glass of wine, the corners of his mouth twitching. Somewhat uneasy, Roy cleared his plate more slowly than before then set his fork aside, resting his chin on his hands as he waited for Hawkeye to speak. The man had nearly emptied the bottle, and he set the glass aside in favor of finishing the wine directly. Riza helped herself to thirds, scraping the serving platter clean.

"I expect you in my study at six thirty tomorrow morning," said Hawkeye, setting aside the empty bottle. "Riza will show you where it is."

She nodded and stood, stacking her plate on her father's. Eager to help, Roy set his own on the serving platter and began gathering silverware. "I can do that," Riza mumbled.

"I don't mind. I'd feel awful just sitting here while you do all the work." Roy stacked his glass on the plate stood to reach for hers.

"You're a guest. There's no need for—"

"Oh, let him help, Riza. If the boy wants to make himself useful, I've no complaints," Hawkeye said.

"Yes, Father." Riza took his glass and headed for the kitchen with Roy trailing behind her, the glasses he had collected wobbling precariously. Neither spoke as they deposited the dishes in the sink, and Roy began to wish he had just thanked her and returned to his room. "Are you all right, Mr. Mustang?" she asked and he looked up to see that she was holding up a towel. "I asked if you would dry."

"Right. Sorry. Thank you." He accepted the towel and watched as she turned on the faucet.

She paused and looked up from the plate she was scrubbing. "'Thank you'?"

"For dinner," he explained, twisting the corner of the towel between two fingers. "It was great."

"You're welcome." Her voice was flat, but as she turned to hand Roy a freshly washed plate, he noticed that she was smiling.

Once the sink was empty and all the dishes put away, Riza wiped her hands on her apron and untied it. "Thank you for helping me. No one's ever offered before."

Roy looked down, running a hand over his hair. "You're welcome," he said, yawning. "I should probably get some sleep. Looks like I'm going to have an early morning."

"Would you like a glass of water?"

"Yes, please." He watched as she retrieved a glass from the cupboard and filled it. Taking it from her, her thanked her and bade her goodnight. He left the kitchen and a tired-looking Riza behind, growing more exhausted with each step until he reached his bed and flopped onto it, still fully dressed. He closed his eyes and reached for the nightstand, not caring that he was still wearing shoes. Something brushed his nose and he flicked it away, trying not to sneeze. _The window,_ he thought with irritation. He had left it open, and after the sun had set, the lamp must have attracted moths. Groaning, he dragged himself out of bed and went to the window to close it just as several more moths flew in. He changed into his pajamas, flicked off the lamp, and lay down again, resigning himself to a long night.

* * *

 

Roy opened his eyes slowly. No one ever woke him this early on a Sunday; Chris was often just getting to bed herself as the sun rose. The knocking grew even more frantic. "Please get up, Mr. Mustang," Riza said with a note of frustration in her voice. Of course. He wasn't home and Riza was supposed to take him to her father's study.

"I'm up," he muttered shoving back the covers and turning on the lamp.

She must not have heard him because she knocked again. "Mr. Mustang?"

"I'm up!" he repeated, more forcefully than he had intended. "Sorry. You can come in." He sat up and hung his legs over the side of the bed.

The door swung open and Riza stepped in, carrying a tray. "I was starting to worry I'd have to pour water on you."

Roy glanced at the glass on the nightstand; two moths floated on the surface of the water. "I'm glad you didn't. Just shake me if I don't wake up in the future." He rubbed his eyes and looked up at her.

She bit her lip and looked down, shifting nervously. The tea cup wobbled and Roy braced himself to jump for it. "My father told me not to do that."

"Good advice," he conceded, yawning. "Hopefully I can wake myself until you trust me."

Riza moved toward him hesitantly and held out the tray. "I'm sorry there's no meat."

"An omelet doesn't need meat to be good," he said, taking it from her and propping himself against the headboard. "Thanks, Riza."

"You're welcome." She wrung her hands, eyes on the floor as she turned to leave. "If you need me, I'll be in my room."

"Hey, wait! Have you eaten yet?"

"Of course. I had some toast while I made your breakfast," she replied, heading for the door. "I'll be back in twenty minutes to take you to Father's study."

Roy watched Riza pull the door closed behind her, wishing he had had the forethought to take a shower the night before. Between the train, the dusty walk to the house from the station, and his restless night, he wasn't in much of a condition to make a good second impression, and he had a feeling that he could have handled dinner better.

With a sigh, he ran a hand over his hair, pausing when he felt something caught in his bangs. Once he had combed it free with his fingers, he caught it in his palm to examine it. Apparently one of the moths had decided to attack him rather than his water, and he was relieved that Riza had seemed more interested in her feet than she had in him while she had been in the room.

Setting the moth on the tray, he finished eating. Riza may not have been the best conversationalist, but she was a good cook, and the tea wasn't half-bad either, although he thought it could have used a bit of milk. He glanced at the clock; he still had about five minutes before Riza returned so he set the tray aside to search for his comb. He found it and changed out of his pajamas; it took three tries to button his shirt correctly and he slumped against the window sleepily, no longer interested in fixing his hair. For all he cared, there could be a dozen moths in there.

The sun rose above the trees as Riza knocked on the door. "I'm coming!" he said, heading toward the door. Opening it, he remembered the tray was still on the bed. "I forgot—"

She looked past him to see the tray. "Never mind that. Follow me." She walked down the hallway to the stairs and Roy noticed a set that led up, wondering how he had missed them the night before. He followed Riza to the top and she knocked twice before saying, "I've brought your apprentice."

"Bring him in," Hawkeye ordered and Riza opened the door, motioning for Roy to enter. He looked around the room, impressed. Every wall was lined with book from floor to ceiling except in front of the windows, which had cupboards beneath them. In the middle of the room stood a long table, surrounded by a few mismatched chairs at regular intervals. Master Hawkeye sat in one, hunched over a book that lay open on the table. "You're early," he said without looking up.

"I'm sorr—"

"Better early than late," he said, turning from Roy to address his daughter. "Leave us."

"Yes, Father." She gave an odd sort of half-curtsy and pulled the door closed behind her.

"Sit down." Hawkeye gestured to the chair across from him. "I hope my daughter brought you something to eat."

"She made me an omelet," Roy said, forcing himself to sit straight.

"You must have made an impression on her," the master observed. "She usually just makes toast."

Roy looked down. "I'm sorry, sir. I was just trying to be friendly, but I suppose I can find friends in the village."

Shaking his head, Hawkeye returned his attention to the book. "What are you apologizing for? The girl could use a friend. Why do you think I chose you over someone older, someone with more money?"

"I was hoping it was because you thought I'd make a good apprentice," Roy said sheepishly.

"That's part of it obviously, but sometimes I worry about that child. You should ask her to take you hunting with her this afternoon." He took a piece of chalk from his pocket and tossed it at Roy. "Enough about her. Draw a circle."

Roy took the chalk and looked at it uncertainly. "Just on the table?"

"It's only chalk. You can draw, can't you?"

"Not really, sir," Roy admitted, carefully outlining an admittedly pathetic oval on the table.

"You will learn in time." Looking up from his book, Hawkeye scowled. "Have you ever seen a circle, boy?"

"I said I wasn't good at drawing," muttered Roy, rolling the chalk between his fingers.

"Then try again."

Roy brushed the chalk away carefully to avoid splinters then drew another oval, pleased that it was, at least, less wobbly than the first.

"Again."

Several hours passed before Hawkeye was satisfied with the circles. Relieved, Roy set aside the stump of the third piece of chalk and flexed his hand, wondering if Riza would pop in with water. The dust made his throat itch and he had already coughed it raw, not to mention the fact that it was nearly nine o'clock. The summer heat would be nearly unbearable in the room by the afternoon and he wondered if he would be allowed to open a window.

"Now the left." Hawkeye resumed his reading.

"Sir?"

"Practice with your left hand. It is important that an alchemist be able to transmute even if his dominant hand is injured." He pulled another piece of chalk from his pocket and rolled it across the table.

Roy picked it up with his left hand, unsure of how to hold it. He shifted it around a few times before attempting to draw. This time, the chalk squeaked across the table and he gritted his teeth, hoping that, by some miracle, his efforts would result in a perfect circle.

"What the hell is that?"

Looking at the table, Roy bit his lip. "It's—er—almost an oval?"

"Again," Hawkeye commanded, waving his hand.

"Yes, sir."

By noon, Roy could hardly breathe for all the chalk in the air and his hands ached. In spite of his best efforts, he had even managed to pick up several splinters. Hawkeye had approved his left-handed circles barely ten minutes before, and then told him to alternate hands. While not as awful as they had been at the beginning, his circles seemed to be getting worse each time as his hands had tensed and refused to loosen. He was half-resigned to spending the rest of his life making increasingly sloppy circles on the table in this room that was even hotter than he had guessed it would be. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he picked up the chalk with his right hand. He had just started another circle when Riza entered, carrying a tray.

Hawkeye looked up. "Put it on the table."

She did so and stood with her hands behind her back, watching him.

"Cucumber?" he asked, taking a sandwich.

"It's all we had. I'm going hunting today, though. I finished all of my chores."

Roy tried to catch her eye but she didn't seem to notice; her gaze was on her father who said, "You're dismissed." He took a sandwich and bit into it.

Roy reached for the plate but Riza shook her head. "Your lunch is downstairs."

Hawkeye brushed crumbs from his book. "I will see you at the same time tomorrow morning, Roy."

"Yes, Master." He followed Riza out the door and down the stairs and once they reached the landing, he realized he was still holding the chalk. "Should I take this back?"

She shook her head. "He'll expect you to practice."

Roy coughed into his arm. "Great," he wheezed.

"Are you all right?" Riza's eyes were wide.

"I'm—" he coughed again "—fine, thanks." His voice was nearly an octave too high and he leaned against the wall to cough again. "I think I breathed a little too much chalk. That's all."

"I'll get you some water." She scampered down the stairs to the main floor and Roy followed her, still coughing too hard to thank her.

In the kitchen, Riza filled a glass at the sink and handed it to him. He downed it quickly. "That's better. Thanks." Riza held out her hand as he wiped his mouth and he returned the glass so she could fill it again. This time, he drank only a bit and cleared his throat. "Can I go with you?"

"What?"

"Hunting." He pinched his finger where he still felt the phantom sensation of the sliver he had removed. "You said you were going and your father said I should go with you."

She sighed. "I don't know you very well."

"You said you trusted me last night."

"I don't recall saying that I wanted you traipsing through the woods with me." She untied her apron and threw it on the counter.

Roy opened his mouth to say something about her carrying a gun and decided against it. If she didn't want him to come along, then he had no right to force the issue. For now, he would do what he could to convince her that he meant no harm; after all, if her father was right, no one needed a friend more than Riza Hawkeye.


	3. Raspberries

A thin ray of sunlight fell across the page of Roy's book and he reached up to adjust the curtains for what had to have been the hundredth time in as many minutes. Closing the window had stopped the pages of his book from fluttering but the room was unbearably stuffy and nothing he did could shut out the sun completely. It was a beautiful day outside, making it nearly impossible to concentrate on the dusty tome in front of him. Looking at his notes, he let out a sigh. Hawkeye had taught him only a little over the course of his first week of study, preferring to leave Roy to decipher the yellowing pages of an old journal.

He stretched and stood. Riza would be making lunch soon and he wondered if she wanted help. It hardly seemed fair for her to cook every meal, and while it wasn't his place to insist the master took a turn, he saw nothing wrong with offering his own assistance. As he closed the book, he heard a knock. "Come in," he said, turning his head as Riza opened the door.

"I was just wondering if you were hungry," she said, looking at the floor.

Roy stood. "I am. Would you like some help?"

"Thanks for offering, but I already made sandwiches," she said, lifting her eyes but not quite meeting his. "Would you like me to bring one up to you, or do you need a break from studying?"

"I've been starting at this for so long, I'm not entirely sure I can read anymore," he said, stretching. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about the code in that book, would you?"

She shook her head. "I don't really know anything about alchemy. I've never wanted to."

"Why not?" He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. No one talked to her because they were scared of her father—why would she want to make things worse by making them scared of her?

"I would rather not discuss that, if you don't mind." Riza shoved her hands into the pockets on her apron, clenching them as she did.

"I'm sorry," he said gently. He had hardly seen her the entire week and now he had upset her. Of course the Master's kid had to be a girl. He could have befriended another boy easily, but he had always been so nervous around girls. He wanted to talk to them and yet he had heard them whispering behind his back in Central, saying he was too rigid and questioning his heritage and his association with Christmas's girls. _Maybe,_ he realized, _that's something I can talk to Riza about; it's something we have in common, at any rate._

Looking down again, she said, "You don't have to apologize." She turned to leave and Roy got to his feet.

"But I made you uncomfortable," he protested, following her out of the room. "And I didn't mean to. I wasn't thinking and I keep putting my foot in my mouth every time I try to talk to you. At least most of the time, I don't even have the nerve to say anything at all."

Riza stopped. "Do you mean that you've actually wanted to talk to me?"

"Yeah," he replied sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. "But apart from thanking you for cooking, I never knew what to say because I was scared of offending you."

Slowly, she turned to face him, though her eyes were still fixed on the floor. "That's kind of you," she said sadly. "No one's ever worried about that before."

"The way I see it, we're both stuck here, and it would be nice to have a friend, so if you want, we could—"

"You want to be my friend?" she interrupted, meeting his eyes for the first time. The force of her gaze surprised Roy.

"Of course I do." He scratched the back of his neck, hoping his face wasn't as red as it felt. "You could certainly use someone, and I'm not exactly popular either. I know how it feels to be treated differently because of my family."

She was smiling again, and her eyes were shining. "I've always wanted a friend, but I was starting to think no one would ever like me."

"Just because the people around here are idiots doesn't mean everyone is. You aren't going to be trapped here forever, you know. I'm sure once you leave, you'll find lots of friends."

"You haven't."

Roy winced; he knew Riza hadn't meant to be rude, that it made sense for the long years without practice speaking to others her age to have resulted in her terseness. Even so, the words stung. "Well, things are different for me. In Central, alchemists are respected. But it's a different story for quiet orphan boys who live above bars."

Riza shrugged. "I'm not the alchemist."

Unsure of what to say, Roy tugged at his collar, wondering if he should just give her a hug. From what he had seen of Master Hawkeye, he doubted anyone had touched Riza since her mother's death, and it was hard for him to imagine a worse fate. The girls he had known in Central—at school and at the bar—had generally been openly affectionate with their friends, and his aunt had always insisted on at least ruffling his hair, even when he was adamant that he was too old for hugs from the closest person to a mother he had ever known. Riza started to turn away but before she could leave, he took a deep breath and said, "Hey, Riza, wait a second."

She stopped and looked at him over her shoulder, confused. "I thought you wanted lunch."

"I do, but first, I want to ask if, um…if you want me to…What I mean to say is, you seem so lonely that I wondered if maybe you need a hug even more than you needed a friend." Embarrassed, he added, "But I understand if you don't want me to touch you."

Blushing, Riza turned toward him. "I—I'd like that, actually. Father doesn't even seem to know I'm here half the time, and there's no one else and so…." She stepped closer and Roy felt his own face flush as he put his arms around her. She returned the embrace and they stood stiffly in each other's arms for a few moments before Roy let go, feeling uncomfortable. "Thank you," Riza whispered, and when he looked down at her, she seemed far more relaxed than she had at all in the past week.

"Any time," he replied nervously, wishing it hadn't been so awkward. After all, she was the first girl he had hugged who didn't see him as an adopted brother, and the last thing he wanted was chase her away.

"I should probably just bring your lunch up here so you can get back to studying. I don't want to waste any more of your time," Riza said, wringing her hands.

"You're not wasting my time. We're friends, remember?" He smiled and lifted a hand briefly before thinking better of it. Just because she said she wanted to be friends didn't mean he could just start patting her arm as if she were part of his family. "Besides, I've gotten everything out of that damn book I can for today. All your father wanted me to decipher this week were the basic chemical compositions for the transmutations in the journal, and I finished that three days ago."

"Why didn't you tell him then?" To Roy's relief, she sounded impressed rather than irritated.

"He said not to bother him until tomorrow because he wanted to do something important this week. I didn't really mind, though. I've been trying to understand the rest but it's been harder. I got lucky because I studied chemicals a bit in school so I knew what I was looking for."

"If you're sure you don't want to study more, would you like to pick berries after lunch? They need to be picked before the birds get them all and we're out of meat, so I'd really like your help."

"I'll do my best, but I don't really know much about berries. You'll be able to tell if I didn't get poisonous ones by mistake after I've picked them, right?"

"It shouldn't been too hard since I'm fairly certain anyone who can decrypt Father's old journals can identify raspberries."

"Oh. Right. Let's get going, then," said Roy sheepishly, putting his hands in his pockets. He followed her to the kitchen.

As they ate, he realized how little he knew about the girl sitting across from him. He had thought asking her to be his friend would be the hardest part, but now that he faced the prospect of getting to know her, he realized he wasn't sure how to go about it. She was always so blunt and yet she didn't reveal anything about herself easily. He was nearly finished with his sandwich before he dared to speak. "What do you like to do in your spare time?"

"I read a lot," she said. "There isn't really much else for me to do, especially in the winter."

"Do you have a favorite book?"

Looking down at the table, she swallowed before saying, "There's an old book of plays that Mom used to read to me sometimes; it's special to me now that she's dead."

"Have you ever seen any of them performed?"

She shook her head. "There are shows in the village sometimes, but they're almost never from the book, and I couldn't afford to go to them anyway."

"Maybe you could come with me to Central someday after we know each other better. One of the girls who used to work at the bar is an actress and she can usually find a cheap ticket or two for her friends. I'd pay for yours, of course," he added, noticing Riza's frown.

"I'd like that," she said, taking a sip of tea. "But I don't think Father would let me go with you. He'd be all alone if we both left, and even though he's always locked up in his study, he still cares about me. He'd worry too much if I were to go so far from home, even if I went with you."

Roy gave her a reassuring smile. "He can't keep you here forever, Riza. Once you're done with school, you can do whatever you want. Find a job, travel the world, leave this place and never return."

"How can you be so sure?" she said almost defensively. "You hardly know me at all."

"I'm your friend. It's my job to believe in you, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't know," Riza said wryly.

"You said you read. That's how it is in stories, so why can't it be that way in life, too?" Roy stood, picking up his plate and reaching for Riza's. "I'll wash these," he offered.

"Thank you, Mr. Mustang," she said, handing her plate and cup to him.

"How many times to I have to tell you? It's Roy."

"Alright then, Roy." His name rolled on her tongue as though it didn't quite fit yet, but it was nice to hear her say it all the same. It put them another step closer to friendship and made him feel more at home in this house.

He washed the dishes quickly and dried them before realizing he had no idea where they went. He opened his mouth to ask but Riza was already next to him, opening the cupboard above the toaster. "Thanks," he said. "For lunch, too."

"It was nothing, really," she mumbled, taking the dishes from Roy and putting them away. "Father and I had to eat anyway, and it was only fair to make something for you too."

"Well, I appreciate it all the same." He put his hands in his pockets, smiling slightly.

"You should probably get your shoes before we go. I'll wait here for you," said Riza.

Roy blinked in surprise. "What? Oh. Berries. Gotcha. I'll hurry." Upstairs, he found his shoes and carried them down to the kitchen where he found Riza leaning against the back door, holding a shotgun and a basket. She waited for him to put his shoes on before shoving the basket into his arms.

"I'm glad you're coming with me. I had hoped you would sometime."

"But last time I offered you didn't want me to come," he said, following her outside.

"I was still nervous then," she said. Her voice betrayed the fact that some of those nerves remained. "I didn't know you at all."

"You can trust me," he promised. "I would never hurt you."

"I do believe that, but there is something else…" Her fingers drummed restlessly against the barrel of her gun.

"What is it?" Roy asked.

"I don't want to scare you off. I'm not some pretty girl going for a stroll through the woods and whistling cheerfully. I'll be shooting and gutting the cute woodland creatures I'm supposed to watch adoringly." The words sounded rehearsed and Roy wondered if she had been trying to work up the courage to invite him along for several days now.

"Why the hell would that matter?"

"Because it's not normal," she said sadly. "All the boys in town call me a freak, and not just because I'm an alchemist's daughter. I wanted to make sure you liked me before you saw the side of me that isn't the dutiful daughter: cooking and cleaning and making myself scarce."

Roy shrugged. "I want to be friends with you, Riza Hawkeye—blood-thirsty killer of innocent animals or not. Besides, I can tell you don't enjoy it."

"And what makes you say that?"

"You sounded like you believe those awful things the boys say about you," Roy said.

Riza opened the gate and gestured for Roy to step through. "You're right. I don't enjoy it," she said, carefully avoiding his last statement. "Honestly, I'd rather pick berries with you, but that won't be enough to get us through the winter. It's supposed to be a bad one this year, so I'll need to dry a lot of meat, especially with another mouth to feed."

Roy felt guilty, but he wasn't sure what to say as he watched her close the gate. The day was so warm he could hardly imagine the harsh winter she seemed so sure would come. Growing up in Central, he had only seen snow a few times, and it had always melted before the end of the day. "I can pay for food if we run out. I brought my savings with me. I don't have much, but it should be enough."

"That's very kind of you, but I'm more worried about being able to leave the house. If the snow blocks the doors, you won't be able to buy food no matter how much money you have."

Looking back over his shoulder, Roy tried to picture snow high enough to lock them in. The idea was as foreign to him as it was frightening. "Does that really happen here?"

"Sometimes," said Riza. "We're nearly in the North and fairly high in the mountains as well. Last year was so mild that this year will probably be the worst we've had in a while. But don't worry. We'll make it through. We always do somehow."

He followed her through the trees, wondering how she could walk so quietly. He could hardly take a step without making enough noise to send birds flying off in all directions. He supposed it was a good thing that Riza had assigned him the task of picking raspberries rather than hunting. After a short while, they came to a creek and crossed a makeshift bridge that he suspected Riza had made herself. He was about to ask when she stopped.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She looked at him sharply, a finger over her mouth. With her other hand, she pointed toward the ground in front of her. It took a moment, but Roy realized there were large boot prints in the dirt. "So? I'm sure lots of people hunt in these woods," he whispered.

"Never this close to the house." She loaded the gun. "It looks like we're not getting any meat today."

"It's summer. Shouldn't there still be enough to go around?"

"That's not what I mean," Riza explained. "I don't know anything about this person, and I'm not going to leave you out here unarmed if there's someone bad out here."

"It's probably just someone trying to feed his family. Like you."

Riza started walking again, heading in a different direction than the prints. "I'd rather not risk it. You're my first friend ever and I won't lose you like that," she insisted. "And you're far too noisy to come with me while I hunt."

They continued in as close to silence as Roy could manage with his clumsy stride until they reached a small clearing filled with raspberry bushes. She paused at the edge, although Roy didn't notice until he ran into an arm she had held out to stop him. "What now?"

"Hold this." Riza thrust the gun into his hand and wiped her hands on her apron before scurrying up a tree. Roy looked away, wondering why she hadn't changed into pants before they left. Then again, she probably hadn't intended to climb any trees. Once she had perched on the lowest branch, she reached down and Roy passed the gun up to her. "I'm going to keep going up until I find a better place to hide. If anyone bothers you, I'll fire warning shots and hopefully they'll leave."

"Got it. So you just want me to fill the basket?"

"Yes." She pulled herself up to the next branch. "And, Roy, go ahead and eat a few. I'm willing to bet you've never had a fresh-picked berry before."

"I can't say I have," he replied, heading toward the bushes. When he looked back to the tree, Riza had gone and he started picking. Some of the berries were still purple and he decided to leave them; they could come back for them later. He put most of them in the basket, but he couldn't resist sneaking a few for himself. Even though Riza had told him to, he felt a bit guilty for it, but they were better than any he could remember having eaten. After he had filled the basket, he turned around to look at the tree again, wondering where Riza was hidden. He didn't want to call up to her and so he carried the basket to the base of the tree and held it over his head, hoping she would see.

"You were faster than I expected," she said and he moved the basket to see her crouching on the branch directly above him. "And you didn't need to hold that up. I saw you walk over." She lowered the gun down to him and he set the basket aside to take it.

"Right," he said, grinning as she let herself drop to the ground. "Just in case you had to shoot me."

Riza took the gun again. "Or save you. Let's head back and hope that whoever was out here already did." She reached into the basket and took a raspberry, popping it into her mouth before heading into the woods. Roy followed her, looking through the trees and half expecting a strange man to leap out at them.

They reached the creek once more, with nothing larger than a rabbit having crossed their path—although Roy had been very startled when Riza had shot it. He had thought her plan involved silence, but she must have felt safer after the time they had spent in the clearing. Or perhaps it had simply been a reflex because she was still on edge. Unsure and unwilling to speak and perhaps startle her into shooting him, Roy had followed her until she stopped at the edge of the creek. They stood there for several minutes, watching the water until she turned around slowly. "What's wrong?"

She stared at him for a moment before replying, "The bridge is gone."


	4. The Culprit

Roy looked at the creek. It was shallow enough that they could wade through the water and the current didn't seem very strong. Still, he doubted Riza was worried about crossing so much as the stranger in the woods. "Why would someone destroy the bridge?"

"I don't know. I can think of several reasons but I'm not sure which is right." She sighed and clutched her gun tighter. "I don't like it, though. They didn't seem to care about it before we crossed, but now that we've left footprints on both sides, it's gone."

Roy looked around nervously. "Are you saying that this person wants to hurt us?"

"It's possible." Frowning, Riza crouched to examine the new footprints from the stranger. "Or maybe they just didn't notice it until we came across making enough noise to wake the dead," she added, looking pointedly up at Roy. "I had thought this was public land, but there might be some trapper who thinks that it belongs to him so he doesn't want other people hunting here."

"And if that's the case, we should head back," said Roy, setting the basket down to remove his shoes.

"I suppose you're right." Riza's eyes narrowed as she examined the prints. "Still, I want to know who's out there."

Without looking back, she dashed off into the trees, and Roy had no choice but to follow her. Despite the noble thoughts parading through his mind, he knew fully well that he had chosen this course of action for his own safety rather than to protect Riza. If he had been thinking rationally, after all, he would have left the berries behind. Carrying the basket without spilling it and keeping track of a short, scrawny girl who was used to concealing herself was no easy task, and as the branches scraped his skin, he couldn't help but wonder just what he had gotten himself into.

She was gone. It took him several minutes to come to this conclusion, but as he slowed to catch his breath, he realized he hadn't seen Riza in at least half a kilometer. He thought he had, but once he had stopped, he saw that what had appeared to be blonde hair was only a spider web and he sank against a tree, looking for signs that someone else had passed this way. He could barely even make out his own footprints, and as heavy as his stride had been, he knew Riza's would be impossible to detect. She might have passed this way or she might have made a sharp turn early on. Or worse, someone might have pulled her into a tree, covering her mouth with one hand and wrestling her gun away with the other. He knew had to find her, had to get them both home somehow. He had never been so certain of anything and yet, he had no idea how he was going to manage unless—"Riza!" he shouted. "Riza, where are you?"

Once, he remembered, his aunt had taken him to a carnival, and she had told him if he got lost to stay where he was and ask an adult for help, but as useless as that advice seemed in the present, he sank to the ground all the same, listening for footsteps and unsure of whether he wanted to hear them or not. Riza would almost certainly appear in silence, after all, her fury at his stupidity displayed only in her eyes because she, for one, would be sensible enough to keep her mouth shut. She was almost three years younger than him and had seen next to nothing of the world, even compared to him, and yet she understood it far better.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into the basket on his lap.

"Sorry for what?" said a deep voice behind him.

He turned and looked up to see a furious Riza being dragged by a large man in a dirty blue uniform with a familiar rifle slung over his shoulder. His eyes were cold and disdainful, his face lined beneath matted brown hair.

Scrambling to his feet, Roy cleared his throat. "Let go of her!" he said in a manner far less intimidating than he had intended.

"Oh, so she's your responsibility? No wonder she got away." The man let go of Riza's collar and shoved her toward Roy, who reached out to stop her from stumbling, spilling the berries in the process.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, putting his hands on her shoulders protectively.

Riza shook her head and pushed him away, turning to face the man who had destroyed her bridge. "I never did anything wrong. It was just some sticks and rope." She spat at his feet.

"This place isn't safe for little girls to run around by themselves," the man said. "And it's not your private hunting ground either."

"No one owns this land," Riza insisted, furiously. "And the only reason it's not safe is because of stupid soldiers like you."

The soldier laughed. "Land always belongs to somebody and this land belongs to Amestris, which means it's my responsibility to keep brats like you from poaching on it."

"I wasn't poaching," she snapped. "I was just trying to keep my family alive." She stepped toward the man, but Roy grabbed her arm.

"We should go."

"No," said Riza. "Soldiers are bullies; Father says so. But I've dealt with bullies before. They're all cowards, picking on a little girl like me because everyone their own age is bigger and stronger than I am. Everyone their age knows they'll never go hungry."

Roy looked down at the spilled berries; the ones around Riza's feet had burst, staining the leaves and her boots. "A soldier can't be a coward. Soldiers are supposed to protect people." He looked up at the man. "A real soldier would never let the people of his country starve." He stepped past Riza to look up at the strange man. "Please let us go, sir. We're just kids."

Reluctantly, the man handed the gun to Roy. "Only because the Brigadier General would have my head," he muttered. "But if I catch you again, I'll have to arrest you, no matter what Grumman might say, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir. We're leaving now." Roy turned to Riza who had picked up the basket and was still glaring at the soldier. Not trusting her to follow him, he reached toward her. She turned to look at him, her gaze softening into confusion as she looked from his face to his outstretched hand. He was about to withdraw it when he felt her fingers against his.

"Let's go home," she said.

"Yeah."

They left the clearing and Riza's hand fell to her side. Roy stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Of course I'm not," she said bitterly. "I don't know what I'm going to do. How are we going to survive the winter?"

"I don't know," Roy admitted, turning to face her. "I suppose I could write a letter to my aunt explaining the situation, and there was at least another basketful of unripe berries. If your jam's as good as the rest of your cooking, you should be able to make loads of money from that."

Riza's face flushed. "Thank you. For helping me back there, too. It was stupid of you to shout, but I'm glad you did. I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't."

"I have a pretty good idea," said Roy cheerfully. "You'd have kicked him, gotten your gun back, and run like hell."

Smiling slightly, Riza looked up at him. "Maybe. But then again," she added as her face fell, "he might have dragged me off to East City to stand trial. Or just shot me and left me out here."

"I'm glad he didn't." Roy adjusted his grip on the gun and held it out to Riza, trying not to think about either of the scenarios she had mentioned. "Maybe you should take this back just in case."

She grabbed it and clutched it to her chest, offering him the basket in exchange. "You don't really think he followed us, do you?"

"If you didn't hear him, I doubt it," said Roy, looking over his shoulder nervously. "He watched us walk away so he can't exactly ambush us, can he?"

Riza shook her head, but she tightened her grip on the gun all the same. When they finally reached the stream, she looked sadly at the spot where her bridge had been. "I suppose if I rebuilt it, he'd just come back and tear it down."

"That may be, but if you want to give it a shot, I'll help you," Roy offered.

Riza smiled nervously. "Thanks." Carefully, she set the gun on the ground and removed her shoes. Roy watched her wade across and hoped the summer air would make the cold water more bearable. When Riza reached the other side, she set her shoes on the ground and turned to look at Roy. "Are you coming?"

He nodded, a grin spreading across his face as he judged the distance across. The bridge certainly was necessary for hauling game across the creek, but the other side was just close enough for a single person to jump across. It would be faster than taking his shoes off, and with the evening breeze, he had no desire to get wet. He knew the real reason the idea appealed to him was a desire to impress Riza and so he smirked before taking a running leap across the water. As he left the shore, he realized that he had misjudged the distance. Clutching the basket in one hand, he reached out with the other and landed in the slick mud of the other bank. The basket fell to the ground as he tumbled backward. Riza reached out to grab his hand but it was too late. He landed with a splash.

As he sat up, he saw the expression on her face change from concern to amusement, and for the first time, he heard her laugh. It was a quick, nervous giggle that seemed to surprise her as much as it did him. Immediately, she regained her composure, although her shoulders weren't as tense as they had been in the past. She placed the gun beside her shoes and reached out tentatively to help Roy up. Wanting to make her laugh again, he yanked on her arm until she toppled forward. Instead of falling into the water as he had hoped she would, she landed in his lap. Embarrassed, she scrambled backward and turned away to hide her embarrassment, although Roy could still see the redness creeping up her neck.

"I'm so sorry, Riza," he said, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted to make you laugh again."

"'S fine," she replied softly, getting to her feet.

Roy stood as well, moving to stand beside her. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." She cleared her throat and met his eyes. "You just caught me off guard. Anyway, we should get home so you can put on dry clothes."

"Next time I'll come up with a better way to make you fall for me," he teased as she pulled her shoes on again.

Riza rolled her eyes and thrust a hand toward him, pulling it back before it reached his chest.

Indignant, Roy pouted at her. "Hey, you weren't planning on pushing me in again, were you?"

"You would have deserved it," she retorted, picking up the gun.

Raising his hands, he took a step back, careful not to fall again. "Easy now. You could hurt someone with that."

"I would never shoot you," she promised. "Imagine how hard it would be to make another friend after I killed the only one I ever had."

Roy laughed and bent down to take the basket. "I can't picture any lines forming to take my place."

They walked back side by side, and as they made their way through the trees, Roy didn't mind the way the evening breeze cut through his wet clothing. He was determined to make Riza laugh again, and as they approached the yard, he decided to tell her about the time last summer when had accidentally poured from the wrong bottle and spat whiskey across the table. As he opened his mouth, he noticed someone standing in the shadows beside the house. "Why would he come here?"

"Maybe because he lives here," Riza whispered. "That's my father, not the soldier."

Master Hawkeye made his way across the yard as Riza opened the gate, fingers trembling. "Do you want me to do that?" Roy offered.

She shook her head and pushed the gate open, eyes firmly on the ground. Roy considered reaching out to steady her but he knew that would only make things worse.

"There you are," Hawkeye said. "I was wondering where you'd gone."

"I'm sorry, sir," Roy said. "I shouldn't have gone, but I thought you didn't want to see me until tomorrow."

"Quiet, boy. This isn't about you." He turned to his daughter. "I told you to make dinner by six. I didn't want to be disturbed after that."

"It can't be six yet," Riza mumbled, kicking at a small rock with her toe.

"It will be soon; you hardly have time to make something before then. And on top of that, you came back empty-handed."

"That's my fault," said Roy, stepping in front of his friend. "I dropped the basket and all the berries fell out. But I can make it up to you. I'll help Riza with dinner and we'll get it to you as fast as we can."

"There's no need for you to do that," Hawkeye insisted. "You're here to study, not to cook for me."

"I've studied what you gave me, sir. I want to be able to make up for losing the berries, too," Roy added sheepishly.

"Very well. You know where to find me." He turned and went into the house. Roy started to follow him but paused when he saw Riza hadn't moved.

"We should get going," he urged her.

"I know," she said sadly, following him toward the house. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

"Hey, it's fine. What else are friends for?" Roy said, nudging her gently with his elbow.

She smiled at him as they went inside, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. As they cooked, she spoke only to issue instructions and Roy followed them in silence, unsure of what to say. At last, they were finished and he set the food on a tray. Riza lifted it carefully and glanced up at the clock above the table. There were still three minutes left and Roy followed her out of the kitchen and up the stairs. "Good luck," he whispered as they reached the landing. She nodded and turned up the stairs to the attic as Roy headed to his room to find dry clothes.

He changed quickly and sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for Riza to return. When she stepped into the doorway, he gestured for her to come inside. "How was it?"

She shrugged. "Fine. I made it just in time, I guess." Nervously, she made her way across the room to stand next to Roy, who patted the bed beside him. She sat gingerly and folded her hands in her lap. "I guess I should make something for us now," she said.

"Would you like help?"

She shook her head. "No, but I would like some company." She leapt up as though the covers were on fire and left the room with Roy trailing behind her. In the kitchen, she put a kettle on first. "I'm sorry I was so useless today."

"You weren't useless. Reckless, maybe, but you're anything but useless," Roy assured her, taking a seat at the table.

She looked at him warily. "You're not just lying because you're my friend, are you?"

"I have no reason to lie to a friend," he assured her. She didn't respond and he felt guilty; it was bad enough watching her do all the work herself, but he was doing a lousy job keeping her company on top of it. However, she didn't seem to mind the silence. Every now and again, she would look over at him and he noticed that her shoulders weren't as tense as they had been, and when she finally brought the food to the table, she was smiling again.


	5. A Rainy Day

The room grew dark gradually and it wasn't until Roy heard the first raindrops against the window that he realized the sun had gone behind clouds. He looked away from the newly transmuted figure on his desk to see Riza running across the yard. She had told him her plans to rebuild the bridge, and he had been envious as he watched her leave after breakfast. With a smile, he moved the figure and wiped the chalk away carefully. He consulted his notes and began to draw another. It was nearly finished when he heard footsteps, and his hand slipped as he turned to see Riza flop onto his bed, barefoot and soaked to the bone. "Feeling a bit under the weather?" he teased and she groaned into his pillow.

In the two weeks following their encounter with the soldier, this was the first she had dared venture into the woods. It seemed she spent most of her time checking to see if Roy was busy, which he usually was. The stack of books Master Hawkeye had told him to study had tripled in the past few days and he had still only managed to complete this one, vaguely horse-shaped transmutation. As difficult as it was for him to concentrate with Riza watching him, he was always glad to have her company and he held out the horse for her to inspect.

The bed creaked as Riza sat up and she looked at the object curiously. "What's that supposed to be?"

"It's a horse. Can't you tell?" he said, somewhat indignant.

"Looks more like a cow to me," she muttered and turned to glare out the window.

Unable to think of a good retort, and unwilling to admit that Riza was right, Roy set it aside. "Are you planning on spending the afternoon sulking or do you want to do something?"

"I'm not sulking," she protested, forcing a smile. "See?"

Roy laughed. Getting to his feet, he stretched and moved to sit beside her. "I'm feeling a bit burned out on alchemy for now," he said. "You want to play a game?"

"What kind of game?" she asked, sitting up straighter.

He thought for a moment, wondering if there was even so much of a deck of cards in the house. "How about chess? Do you know how to play?" If nothing else, he supposed he could draw a board and transmute the pieces.

"Of course I do. My mother taught me," she informed him. "But I haven't played in years; my father was never interested."

"So you haven't played since she died?"

"I have. I used to play with Father Eckhart when I visited the church," she explained.

Roy looked at her in surprise. "You went to a church? I never took you for the religious type."

"My mother liked to sing," Riza explained. "And after she died, I was so lonely that I'd sneak into the church to hear the choir practicing on my way home from school because it reminded me of her." She looked down at her hands and kicked her heels against the bedframe. "Sometimes, we didn't have much food so I'd go there. One winter, it snowed so hard that I couldn't get home so I had to sleep in the choir loft for a week."

"That sounds awful," Roy said, wringing his hands and wondering if patting her shoulder would help.

"It wasn't so bad. The Father is a very kind man and a good cook. He's the one who taught me, you know."

Roy grinned at her. "Remind me to thank him sometime." Riza returned his smile with one of her own, but said nothing and Roy watched her for a few moments before adding, "But you said that was years ago. What happened?"

She shrugged. "I guess I just didn't have time. When I was eight, our savings ran out. Father started taking on apprentices and I had to keep everyone fed and the house clean."

"I'm sorry." He put an arm around her shoulders, and though she seemed startled by the contact, she relaxed and leaned against him.

"It's in the past now." She squirmed away from Roy and stood. "I'll get the chessboard."

As she left the room, Roy went to the window. The rain was coming down in sheets now, and he couldn't see anything past the drops on the window. Frowning, he examined his reflection; there was a smudge of chalk on his nose and his hair stuck up in several places. He brushed away the chalk but didn't bother fixing his hair. The only person he would see was Riza, after all, and he expected she would muss it herself if he beat her.

"Look who's sulking now," said Riza pointedly as she entered the room.

"I was just watching the rain," he protested, turning to scowl at her.

She laid the board on his bed. "Of course you were," she replied with a smile as she arranged the pieces.

"Shouldn't you put that on a table?"

"I like your room better than the kitchen, and there's no space for it on the desk." She placed the last pawn on its square and smiled at him.

As Roy sat carefully on the other side of the board, he couldn't help but wonder at the change in his friend. It was hard to reconcile the girl lounging on his bed as comfortably as if it were her own with the somber and withdrawn person who had met him on the platform. She really must have been lonely if it had taken little more than a day in the woods to earn this much of her trust.

"You're just copying me, aren't you?" he said after several turns.

"I am not," she protested, moving her bishop.

"Yes you are. You just did that because you knew I was catching on."

"No. I did it so you won't move your knight." She frowned at the board. "Besides, if I copied you the whole time, you'd win because you went first."

"That is true." Roy moved one of his own bishops, and Riza captured it. As they continued to play, he watched her more attentively than he did the board. While she decided which piece to move, she played absentmindedly with the hem of her skirt, her face expressionless. Resolving never to play poker with her, he returned his attention to the game to find that she had taken another of his pawns. He captured the knight only to watch her quickly remove his rook. "You're better than I expected."

"What? Girls can't be good at chess?" she retorted, looking up from the board to glare at him.

He shook his head. "I just thought it would be easier to beat someone who hasn't played in years."

"You still think you're going to win, don't you?"

After several turns, Roy picked up his queen to take her rook, noticing her knight just in time to move it elsewhere. Riza studied the board carefully before sliding her own queen to a square in line with Roy's. He moved it to safety and Riza looked at him curiously. "Somewhere along the way, you got ahold of an extra pawn," he said.

"That was ages ago," she said, the corners of her lips twitching.

Roy grinned at her. "Doesn't matter. It'll be even soon enough."

She looked up in surprise as he took her knight. "Are you sure you wanted to do that?"

"Funny, I never thought you'd try to trick me like this," he said. "Seems like something a sore loser would do."

Riza shrugged. "It's your loss," she said, moving her rook. "Check."

Far too late, he saw the trap she had lured him into and stared at the board in frustration. "That's really not fair," he complained, reluctantly using his queen to protect the doomed king.

"Checkmate," Riza announced cheerfully as she took the queen and leaned back against the headboard, a smile spreading across her face. "Never leave your king without a means of escape," she suggested.

"You did."

"Who's the sore loser now?" she teased, leaning forward again to reset the board. "I didn't leave my rook trapped behind a knight. It's impossible to win if you have useless pieces, you know." She straightened a pawn and then looked up at Roy.

"Do you want to play again?" he asked, placing the pieces he had taken from her on his side of the board.

She moved to sit on her legs, tugging at her skirt until it covered her knees. "That depends. Can you handle losing again?"

"I don't care if I lose," he said, scowling at her.

"It seems like you do. Are you sure it's not because I'm a girl?" she asked sadly, twirling a pawn between two fingers.

His expression softened. "I already told you it wasn't. Why would it matter that you're a girl anyway?"

"It does to some boys," she explained with a shrug. "They act like it makes them stupid."

"Well, they're certainly stupid if they think they're better just because they're boys." He reached across the board to nudge her shoulder playfully. "I'm just used to losing to people who are older and who have more practice, not other kids who haven't played in a long time."

The wind picked up shortly after they began their second game. As the rain blew against the house, Roy found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Despite his determination to win, it seemed as though Riza could read his thoughts and she moved her pieces accordingly, taking his before moving to safety. "That priest must be really good," he said as she cornered her king once again.

Riza shook her head. "He was alright, but my mother was brilliant." She looked down, a pained expression on her face. "When she got sick, it was just about the only thing she could do without leaving her bed, so I'd set up the board on her lap whenever she was awake."

Somewhat surprised by her openness, Roy reached out and took her hand. "I'm sorry," he said, squeezing it gently. Having lost his own parents before he could remember, he couldn't imagine what Riza's loss must have felt like—what it must feel like even now.

"She would have loved you," said Riza. Her voice cracked as though she was holding back tears but her eyes were dry. "Sorry," she added, wiping her face with her free hand as if out of habit. "I didn't mean to act like this. I just miss her."

"You don't have to apologize." Still holding her hand, he scooted around the board to sit beside her.

Her face flushed slightly and she tugged her hand away from his. "I'm just being silly and you don't need to see that."

"It's not silly to miss someone you love," he told her. He reached up to touch her hair but pulled his hand back, deciding it was too intimate a gesture. She was closing herself off again and he had no inclination to push her farther away.

"It is when you nearly start crying in front of someone else. She's been gone for more than half of my life. I need to grow up." Her voice was steadier now and she leaned ever so slightly away from Roy. He understood, in a way. Her loneliness had spilled her heartache to him and her wariness had brought her tongue to heel once more. Returning to his side of the board, he wondered if she would ever truly trust him.

 _That's not right_ , he reminded himself. After all, she laughed and smiled and lounged on his bed as comfortably as if it were her own. _But one short month isn't about to undo years of silence._ As he made the first move of the next game, he hoped he hadn't pushed her too far. "Hey, Riza, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

She took her turn instantly, but her eyes were locked on the board. For several minutes, they moved the pieces, but their thoughts were on a different game. When she found the right words, Riza looked up at Roy again. "I remember you saying that you wanted to be my friend because we were trapped in this house together, and I want you to answer truthfully: is that all I am to you—someone to keep you company until you can leave this place and forget about me?"

"I'll never forget you, Riza," he promised, wondering how long that question had been troubling her. "I'd like to believe that, no matter how we had met, we would have become friends one way or another. Locking us up together made it happen faster, that's all."

Relief washed across her face, and her lips twitched slightly, though she did not smile. "You will leave, though."

The bluntness of her statement made Roy flinch, but he could hardly blame her. It had only been a month, but from her perspective, it had been the only month that she'd had a friend. "You could come with me," he offered, the words slipping out before he could think. "Well, I mean, you could come to visit and I'd visit you, too."

A disbelieving smile spread across her face. "Really?"

"Of course. Do you really think I'd abandon you here?" he said, raising his eyebrows.

"I know you said you were lonely too, but I had thought that if you went back as a big shot alchemist, you'd make loads of friends."

"It might happen," he said, grinning. "But you'll still be my best friend."

Riza's smile shrank slightly. "What makes you so sure of that?"

"Because you liked me before I was a big shot alchemist," he said, reaching over to ruffle her hair affectionately.

She giggled slightly, looking surprised by her own laughter. As Roy's hand returned to his side, she fixed her hair the best she could without a mirror. "I'm honored," she teased. Despite her lighthearted tone, Roy could tell she truly meant it, and he grinned at her, not caring that she had put him in checkmate for the third time.


	6. Building Bridges

Chapter 6: Building Bridges

With the midmorning sun just barely above the trees and an axe in his hand, Roy followed Riza into the woods. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked hesitantly. He had avoided the question all morning, but as they walked under the trees, he couldn't keep it in any longer.

"Maybe it's not, but if you want to survive the winter, you'll just have to go along with it," she replied, not even bothering to look at him over her shoulder. "With any luck, that soldier will be off in Ishval by now."

Roy hoped she was right. As they made their way through the trees, he kept his eyes on the ground, looking for footprints, but saw only Riza's. The previous day's rainstorm had left the dirt soft and her footprints were deeper than they had been the day he lost track of her. Still, he knew, the rain might have washed away tracks from the previous day and he wished Riza had brought her gun. She had told him to carry the axe, hoping that it would scare the soldier away should he return, but Roy had every intention of returning it to her if they ran into trouble. She had at least used it before. The most lethal thing Roy had ever wielded was a chef's knife in the kitchen back home.

"You're unusually quiet today," Riza said, looking at him over her shoulder without breaking her stride.

He ran a hand over his hair, feeling proud. "Well, I have been trying to keep my eyes on the ground so I don't step on as many twigs."

"I didn't mean that. You're making as much noise as ever. I just thought it strange that you haven't said a word. Is something wrong?"

"Of course not. It was just part of trying to be quiet." He smiled sheepishly, though he knew she wouldn't see it. "But if I'm as loud as you say, I might as well talk."

She shrugged slightly. "Only if you have something to say."

Frowning slightly, he looked down at her feet, trying to follow her steps as he thought about what he could ask her. They had known each other only a short time and yet he had nearly run out of questions to ask her. The only ones that remained were ones he was too scared to ask, since she still seemed so reserved. He already knew that her favorite of the plays from her mother's old book was about a shipwreck and a magician, that she didn't know the name of her favorite song, and that she had never put much thought into what she would do when she finished school. Roy was always willing to answer her questions, but they were few and far between. Perhaps she felt as uncomfortable prying as he did, and he wondered how much it would hurt their budding friendship if he were to take the first step. Riza had revealed so much about her mother the day before that he wondered if she was truly starting to open up to him, and there was only one way to find out. "Hey, Riza?"

"Yeah?"

"You said your mother was a singer." He watched her nervously, waiting for her shoulders to tense as he considered abandoning his original line of questioning for a less personal one.

"What of it?" she asked after several moments of silence, her posture still as relaxed as it had been before he had spoken.

"I just wondered if you were too," he said softly, hoping she wouldn't hear.

She shrugged slightly. "I don't know. I've never had an audience before."

"Would you like to?" he asked.

She didn't speak for several minutes, and Roy was worried he had offended her until he heard the first few notes. The tune was unfamiliar, but from the words, he guessed it was a hymn she had learned from the choir—or perhaps from her mother. Her voice was shaky at first, but by the end, her nerves had subsided somewhat and she turned to face him, blushing slightly.

He stopped abruptly to avoid stepping on her feet. "You have a lovely voice," he told her gently. "You could probably sing in Central if you wanted to."

She shook her head. "Don't try and flatter me, Roy. Even if I could get more than a squeak out in front of all those strangers, there are plenty of girls who are more talented than I am."

"I'd pay to hear you, at least," Roy said, reaching out to pat her arm reassuringly.

"Careful, I might just hold you to that," she said with a grin. Placing the basket she had brought on the ground, she walked toward the creek. It was slightly wider here than at the site of the original bridge, and the water looked deeper.

"Are you sure this is the best place?" he asked, setting the axe beside the basket before joining her on the bank.

She nodded. "It's more secluded. And," she added, looking up at him, "it's a better place to do this." Before he could ask what she meant, her hand was on his chest; the force of her shove sent him reeling backward, and he landed with a splash. The water was deep enough to break his fall, but he was still less than pleased with this turn of events. As he stood, he saw Riza doubled over with laughter.

"It's not that funny," Roy protested, wading through the waist-deep water until he could pull himself back onto the shore. "I think my shoes are ruined."

"They'll dry," she assured him breathlessly. Still giggling, she stood up straighter. "I had to get you back for pulling me in."

He kicked the shoes off in a sunny patch of grass. "That was weeks ago," he protested, picking her up. She struggled in his arms but by the time she freed herself, she was already over the water and the only thing she could do was grab onto Roy's shirt and pull him in with her. "Now we're even," he said, letting the current carry him away as Riza tried to splash him.

Laughing, Roy ducked under the water and swam upstream until he could see Riza through the murky water. He grabbed her legs and pulled her under; she kicked him away and propelled herself toward the bank. As he surfaced, Roy noticed that her back was to him, her shoulders hunched. "Did I hurt you?"

"My dress," she muttered.

He couldn't see any rips, but he supposed the front could have been torn or stained. "Did I ruin it?" he asked, scrambling out of the water to sit beside her.

"No," she muttered.

"What's wrong, then?"

"You didn't see anything, did you?" she asked nervously.

"What kind of person do you think I am?" he said lightly. "I just wanted to startle you." Putting an arm around her shoulders, he gave her a reassuring squeeze.

She sank against him and swept her wet bangs away from her eye. "We should get to work soon."

"We have all day. Let's dry off first." He let go of Riza and scooted away, giving himself room to lie back on the warm grass. After a few moments, Riza spread her skirt carefully and lay back as well. Resting her head on her arms, she looked up at the cloudless sky with the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. She crossed her ankles and turned her head slightly to look at Roy.

"You aren't going to fall asleep, are you?" she teased.

As tempted as he was to take a nap, Roy had a feeling that if he closed his eyes, Riza might try to surprise him again. He shook his head—half in response to Riza and half to fight off the sleepiness that had crept over him from the warmth of the sun and the steady buzzing of beetles in the surrounding trees.

"Good. You're hard to wake." She rested her head back on her arms once more and closed her eyes.

"At least I'm trying to stay awake," Roy said.

With her eyes still shut, she smiled. "The sun's just bright," she explained with a yawn.

"You sure?" he reached over to ruffle her damp hair and she laughed lightly.

She nodded and sat, combing through her hair with her fingers. "I'm going to chop wood. You can stay here if you like." Wringing water from her skirt, she looked around until she spotted the axe. She moved toward it but Roy was quicker.

"I can get the wood," he offered.

She scowled at him. "I'm the one who knows what to do."

Reluctantly, he handed the axe to Riza. She was right, of course. "If only I knew more about alchemy. I could make a bridge in minutes."

"Where's the fun in that?" Shouldering the axe, she stepped into her shoes and headed toward a fallen log with Roy at her heels.

Hesitant though he was to question her, the idea of making a decent bridge with nothing but an axe seemed preposterous. "Hey, Riza, don't you think we should have brought a saw?"

She shook her head. "I'm just going to chop these branches off." Looking over her shoulder, she raised an eyebrow at him. "What? Did you think I was going to try to hack planks out of it?"

Laughing, he moved to steady the tree as she began her work. "I had hoped you weren't planning on that." After a few moments of examining the trunk, he frowned. "How are we going to move it?"

"There's rope in the basket." Riza shoved a branch aside and moved to the next one. "We can tie it to the roots."

He looked across the creek and noticed that the trees were closer to the water there. If they put the roots on that side, it would almost look like it had fallen that way. As he examined the stumps left behind, he realized that the shoddy axe work was meant to disguise human involvement. _Damn, this girl thinks of everything._ He wondered if this had something to do with her skill at chess and watched admiringly as she wiped her brow. When she met his eyes, Roy felt his face grow warm and he looked away.

"I think I should leave the rest. Is something wrong?" she added, frowning as she noticed his flushed cheeks.

"I'm just impressed," he told her, shaking his head. "You should be the one studying alchemy."

Her eyes narrowed and she looked away. "I've already told you, I'm not interested."

"But you still haven't said why not," he pressed.

"Don't ask me again," she said sharply. "I'll tell you when I'm ready."

Surprised, Roy stepped back. "I had thought, once we were closer, you might—"

"We're still not close enough." She kicked at a branch she hadn't cut all the way through, but there was no malice in the action and her voice seemed sad.

"You've been in my bed," he teased, hoping at least to make her smile.

Her lips twitched slightly. "Better not let Father hear about that." She lifted the axe slightly, a serious expression in her eyes. The two friends looked at each other for a few moments, their faces grave until Roy started laughing. Once he lost his composure, Riza let herself go as well and her shoulders shook as she sank to the ground. She put the axe down and Roy sat beside her, rubbing his neck.

"You don't think he'd really…?" He made a cutting gesture and Riza laughed even harder.

"I certainly wouldn't put it past him," she said, nudging him with her elbow. "At the very least, it would be the end of your alchemy lessons and I'd lose my best friend."

"I'd be losing mine too," he said, knocking his knee against hers. "And you're worth more to me than alchemy."

A disbelieving smile crossed her face as she looked up at him. "Really?"

"Of course you are," he said. "You know, for someone so smart, you can be such an idiot."

"Careful now." She reached toward the axe jokingly, her smile wider than ever. As he laughed, she moved closer to him, leaning against his shoulder. Roy was surprised by the gesture but pleased all the same. It was strange how much her trust meant to him, even after so short a time.

As he put an arm around her, his heart sank. Master Hawkeye had assured him that he could learn the basics of alchemy in one year if he applied himself and he wondered if he would ever get to see Riza again afterward. As easy as it was to ignore the difference in age now, he knew it would matter when he left. She had a couple of years left in school and it would be selfish to ask her to uproot herself to finish her education in Central, and she probably wouldn't want to see him again—let alone follow him across the country—once she learned of his dream of becoming a soldier. She would cut him out of her life before he even got a chance to tell her how desperately he wanted to fix whatever it is in the system that could make a man think a uniform gave him permission to bully a teenage girl.

"To protect those who can't protect themselves," he muttered, tightening his grip on Riza.

"Huh?" She stared at him, confused.

"Why I came here; why I'm studying alchemy," he explained. "I asked why you didn't want to, so I thought it was only fair to tell you why I did."

She rolled her eyes, but her lips curled into a smile. "I didn't tell you, though. And I didn't ask either," she said gently.

"Sorry," he said, feeling sheepish. "I just wanted to let you know that I trusted you." _With some of the truth, at least._

"Thanks." Her smile widened and she reached out to take his free hand in both of hers. "I trust you, too, Roy."

He smiled and left it at that, pulling her even closer. It was foolish to feel that he had to protect her. After all, if anyone in Amestris was capable of taking care of herself, it was Riza. "Let's get to work," he said, and she nodded, releasing his hand as she stood and strode toward the basket. As she picked up the coil of rope, Roy pushed himself up to sit on the tree. He stretched his legs and watched as Riza wrapped one end of the rope just above the roots. "Do you think the two of us are strong enough to pull this?"

She looked up from tying a knot. "If not, we can always use a pulley system." She tugged on the rope to see if it was secure enough, and satisfied, she waded into the creek, letting the rope slip through her fingers.

"Where should I stand?" Roy asked, following her into the water.

"In front of me." She pulled herself onto the bank and wrapped a section of rope around her hands.

Still uncertain that the two of them could move such a large tree by themselves, Roy copied her and dug his heels into the dirt. "Now?"

"Now," she agreed and they began to pull. After several minutes, Roy's hands were burning and the tree remained exactly where it had started. He glanced back to see Riza straining, a determined glint in her eyes. Unwilling to give up first, he continued his futile attempt to move the log. With a grunt, he yanked the rope as hard as he could, but the effort sent him toppling backward, knocking into Riza as he fell. He heard a soft moan of pain and felt a knee dig into his lower back.

"You okay?" he groaned, rolling onto his stomach and propping himself up on one elbow.

"I think so," she said breathlessly. "You?"

"I'm fine." He rubbed his back where Riza's knee had been, wincing slightly. "So, what were your plans for a pulley system?"

She pushed herself up to a sitting position. "I could climb a tree with the basket. If you pass rocks up to me, I can put them in and tie the rope around it."

"That'll take forever," he complained. His hands were already burned from the rope and he couldn't see any suitable rocks.

"Then let's hear your ideas, Alchemist." With a grunt, she stood and stumbled. Roy tried to catch her but only managed to get to his knees by the time she regained her balance. "Must've twisted my ankle," she muttered, leaning against a tree.

Roy stood and walked to her side. "We should go home," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah." She flashed him a quick smile and limped toward the creek.

"Are you sure you can make it?" he asked.

She nodded. "As long as I keep walking, it'll be fine." Slowly, she stepped into the water and waded across while Roy watched, a phantom ache spreading up his own leg.

"I can carry you if you want," he said, following her to the other bank.

"Don't try to be noble," she scolded. "If I stop, it will be that much harder once I start walking again."

"But you won't have to," he insisted. It was his fault she had gotten hurt, after all, and he felt terribly guilty. "You can prop it up once we get home and I'll make you an icepack." He expected her to dismiss the idea, to insist that she was feeling better already, but instead she stopped.

"Fine," she agreed, sitting on the log she had intended to use as a bridge as Roy gathered the supplies they had brought. He moved the sandwiches Riza had packed to one side of the basket and carefully rested the head of the axe beside them.

He untied the rope and coiled it, then set it on top before thrusting the basket into Riza's arms. "Here." She set it in her lap and grabbed his hand, turning it so the palm faced up.

"You're bleeding."

He looked down in surprise. "I suppose I am," he said. He looked back at Riza, with her swollen ankle and disheveled hair, and felt a pang of guilt. "I don't want to ruin your dress. One second."

"I don't mind," she said as he tugged his shirt over his head and wrapped it around his hand.

"Well, it's not like you can just afford to buy another one," he said, "and blood isn't easy to get out of clothes."

With a quiet laugh, she shook her head. "That's not what I was talking about."

Looking down at his bare chest, Roy felt his face grow hot but he was certain that couldn't be what she had meant, so he rolled his eyes and lifted her gently, taking care not to bump her injured ankle against the tree.

By the time they reached the house, his arms were burning. "Can you stand?" he asked.

"I think so."

He put her down and she grimaced as her bad foot hit the ground. "Sorry," Roy said, but she shook her head and leaned against the back door.

Shifting her weight onto her uninjured leg, Riza opened the door and hopped into the kitchen, shoving the basket onto the counter as soon as she was inside. She limped to the table and her gait became more relaxed as she reached it. "Thanks for carrying me," she said quietly.

"No problem." As he opened the icebox, he heard a chair scrape across the floor. "Are you sure you're comfortable there?" he asked, watching her over his shoulder.

She rubbed her swollen ankle. "I'm fine, Roy."

"If you say so," he said with a frown. He opened the cupboard beside the door and removed an icepack from beside the first aid kit. As he chipped ice into it, he felt Riza's eyes on his back and he realized his shirt was still wrapped around his hand. He closed the icepack and removed the first aid kit from the cupboard. Tucking it under his arm, he carried the pack to Riza.

"Thank you." She pressed the icepack against her ankle and looked up at him. "How are you holding up?"

"Let's see," he said. He unwrapped his hand and tossed the soiled shirt aside. "It doesn't look too bad."

Riza grabbed his hand and inspected it, frowning at the dried blood and dirt. She released it a few moments later. "You're right. But you should bandage it all the same."

With a nod, Roy turned and went to the sink. He washed his hands thoroughly, reopening the wound as he did. He set the first aid kit on the counter and opened it, searching for a bandage with his good hand. When he found one, he wound it over his injury and held it in place with his teeth to secure it. "Is there anything else I can do?"

Riza stood shakily. "Help me upstairs. I want to take a bath."

"I don't think that would be appropriate," he said, impressed with his own ability to keep a straight face.

She glared at him. "You're lucky I'm injured or I'd kick your ass right now."

"I don't doubt it." Approaching her cautiously, he crouched and put her arm around his shoulders. "Come on," he said as he pulled her to her feet. She elbowed him sharply. "I guess I deserved that."

"It was the least I could do," she said sweetly, smiling at him as he helped her out of the kitchen and up the stairs.


	7. A Promise

Roy rolled onto his stomach, groaning as he buried his face in his pillow. Tempted though he was to stay in bed, he knew he had to eat something before he faced Master Hawkeye. Slowly, he lifted his head and opened one eye to look at the three copper figures between the stacks of books and papers on the desk. _There's no way they're good enough._ It should have been easy with only one element to manipulate, but, like with drawing, it would take more practice to get the shapes right. It was a shame the master wanted something more complex than geometrical shapes: his first attempt at a pyramid had been nearly perfect. The animals, however, left a lot to be desired.

In the end, it was the smell of breakfast that forced him to get up. Riza had stopped coming for him now that he was used to early mornings and her cooking was so good that he always managed to get to the kitchen while it was still hot. After dressing quickly, he picked up the figures and made his way downstairs. Riza was already at the table when he entered the kitchen and she smiled at him as he sat across from her. Placing the copper animals beside his plate, he gave her a quick smile in return and began spreading butter on his pancakes. "How's your ankle?"

"Much better, thanks," she said, sliding the syrup toward him. "What are those?"

"My homework." He passed the first figure to Riza. "I already showed you this one. It's a cow."

"I thought it was a horse."

"Shut up," he said, scowling as he reached for the next figure. Taking a sip of tea, he set the small animal beside her plate. "A dog."

She picked it up and examined it as she chewed. "It's a good dog."

"It was supposed to be a pig," he admitted, staring at his plate. He took a large bite and hoped that Hawkeye would agree with his daughter.

"And what's the last one?" she asked as he looked up again.

"I want you to guess."

Riza reached across the table and lifted the copper figure carefully. After several minutes of inspection, she set it down beside the others. "I was going to say it was a tree at first," she said, cutting another slice of pancake. "But now I'm fairly certain it's a giraffe."

Pleased, Roy nodded. "Very good," he said. After a few moments, he scratched his head. "Wait—you thought it was a tree?"

"The legs are really close together," she explained as she returned the copper animals. "You've only been here a month; you should be proud."

"Yeah, I know. It's just…" He had to tell her, had to make her understand his dreams, but the words refused to come.

"Just what?" she asked, scraping leftover syrup from her plate onto her fork.

"I only have a year. That's how long he said it would take to master the basics if I studied hard." He buried his face in his hands. "But I have to do better than that if I hope to learn his secret research too."

"Why? Can't you stay longer?" She sounded sad, as though she wanted nothing more than for him to remain in this house until he had learned everything there was to know of alchemy. _Of course she does,_ he realized. _She doesn't want to say good bye any more than I do._

He shook his head. "I have to go at the end of next summer." With all his heart, he hoped she wouldn't ask why. When she didn't, he continued, "And I would have been fine with that. I could have left and continued with my own research in Central, but I heard that he was working on something special. Something no other alchemist had dared to research."

Shifting in her chair, Riza reached for her tea. She sipped it slowly as Roy watched her.

"You know what it is, don't you?"

"I do," she said, without meeting his eyes.

"Will you tell me if the rumors are true? Has he really discovered a form of alchemy based on combustion? He hinted at it in his letter, but I need to be certain."

To avoid answering, she set her mug on her plate and carried the dishes to the sink. Roy carried his own over and began washing them while Riza watched, holding a towel. She dried his plate and set it aside. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"He offered you the chance to stay longer and you turned him down." She leaned her elbows on the counter and stared out the window. "I was hoping you'd want to stay. If you continued studying under him, you'd have an excuse to stay here with me." She turned and took a clean mug from him. "But I shouldn't be so selfish. You have no reason to stay here beyond what you had originally planned."

Her words stung, and he knew he had to force himself to tell her the truth. He couldn't possibly hurt her more than he already had. "I have two very good reasons to stay here and the best is right here." He put a hand on her shoulder. "But I made a promise."

She looked up at him in surprise. "To whom?"

"To myself." He set aside the fork he was washing and scratched his neck. "I'm only seventeen, so when I finished school, I decided to study alchemy and I found someone who claimed he could teach me in a year. That's one part of why I chose your father," he explained. Her eyes narrowed, as though she suspected where he was headed, but she said nothing. "And so," Roy continued, "next fall, when the military academy accepts new students, I have to be in Central." This time, she didn't react at all, and the longer he waited for a response, the more he felt he had to explain himself. "I want to keep soldiers from hurting civilians. I also want to be able to make a decent living but I couldn't really think of another career I wanted to pursue. I shouldn't have kept this from you but I didn't want to hurt you."

"Well," she said slowly, "I'm glad you told me now instead of when you left. And I won't mention it to Father—that's your place, not mine."

"Is that all? If you hate me, you can say it." He scrubbed the fork rather more aggressively than he meant to before slamming it onto the counter in front of her.

"I could never hate you, Roy." She set the towel aside and touched his elbow hesitantly, his fingers barely brushing his skin.

The simple gesture was enough to make him shiver, even though the room was still warm from the stove. He didn't want to think about that, though. Whatever his feelings for Riza might be, he refused to examine them beyond the friendship and trust they shared so openly. "I'm glad." He wiped his hands on the discarded towel then pulled her into an embrace, which she returned enthusiastically.

"You should go," she said softly, pulling her arms away. "Father's expecting you."

"Right." Reluctantly, he released her and went to the table to collect the figures he had transmuted. In the doorway, he looked at her over his shoulder. She was smiling again.

"Good luck."

"Thanks." He dashed up both sets of stairs and opened the door to the attic, where he found Hawkeye in his usual place on the far side of the table, twiddling his thumbs impatiently. Roy approached slowly and set the completed transmutations on the table for appraisal. Sitting in his usual chair, he kept his eyes firmly on the floor.

For several minutes, the only sounds came from a sparrow outside the window and from Hawkeye lifting and examining each piece in turn. "I've seen worse," he said at last, causing Roy to look up. "But I expected better of you."

"Not to make excuses, sir, but it's like the circles. I couldn't draw anything when I got here, and now I have to do it three-dimensionally. I can learn how to manipulate an element easily. I'm just not good at forming them into intricate shapes yet."

"So I have gathered. It will take practice, like the circles did and you clearly have not practiced enough."

"Yes, Master." He sat quietly while Hawkeye drew a transmutation circle and returned each animal to its original form: a small, solid cube of copper.

"I suppose you should begin working with simple alloys," he said, and Roy looked up in astonishment. "I don't doubt your abilities, Mustang. I just think you're too easily distracted." He stood and carried the copper to a chest beside one of the bookcases.

"What do you mean?" Roy asked, puzzled.

"I mean," said Hawkeye, "that while you're doing my daughter a world of good, she seems to have the opposite effect on your studies." He removed three different blocks from the chest before closing it.

Roy clenched his fists under the table, but he tried to keep his tone polite. "Are you saying I can't spend time with her?"

"All I'm saying is that you need to learn to control your thoughts." Hawkeye sighed as he returned to his chair. "She knows when you need to take a break from studying and when you need to concentrate. You should learn that too."

"I already have, sir. I can decipher the journals easily enough. I just need more practice shaping objects."

Hawkeye looked amused for a moment before his face returned to its usual impassive expression. "And that is where you need to learn to concentrate. If you can control your thoughts, your transmutations will look the way you want them to. You have no hope of mastering more complex transmutations if you lack the discipline to properly shape single-element blocks."

Embarrassed, Roy looked down. It was true that he let his mind wander when he was supposed to be studying. It was difficult to picture animals he had only seen in books or in fields when the train had brought him here and he often found himself wondering what adventure he and Riza would have next. "I'm sorry, Master. You're right and I'll do better next time."

"Good." He handed the cubes to Roy. "You'll find everything you need in the red poetry book I gave you last week. I expect significant improvements by next Sunday. You may go."

"Yes, Master." Roy lowered his gaze and pocketed the pieces of metal as he stood. "Thank you."

Hawkeye said nothing, only waved dismissively toward the door as Roy left. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he wondered whether or not Hawkeye approved of his relationship with Riza. She was obviously much happier than she had been before but he wouldn't blame the man for worrying. If he had a teenage daughter, he would never let a strange boy stay in the house. Still, he was almost as grateful for Hawkeye's leniency as he was for Riza's friendship. He left the cubes in his room and decided that he didn't feel much like studying at the moment. Instead, he headed downstairs in search of his friend.

He found her in the dining room, washing the window. "How was it?" she asked when she heard him enter the room.

"He said I needed to concentrate."

"Well, he does have a point," she said. "If you don't learn that by the time he teaches you what he's been researching, you could get yourself killed."

"Are you going to tell me after all?" he asked, cocking his head slightly.

"You look like a puppy," she said, chuckling.

"And you look like someone trying to avoid questions," he replied irritably. "How would you even know what it is anyway? You said you would never touch anything to do with alchemy."

She tensed; her neck stiffened and he could almost see muscles knotting in her upper back and he was about to voice his concern when she turned, dropping her cleaning rag in the bucket on the windowsill. "Fire," she whispered, shoving her hands into the pockets of her apron. "After Mother's funeral, he became obsessed with it. He would stare at the flames for hours, scribbling notes on scraps of paper and then staring at the words before tossing them on the coals. He never seemed satisfied."

"Until now?"

"Until now," Riza agreed. "If he's offering to teach it to you, he must close at the very least."

Roy pulled a chair out and sat. "Do you think he'd still be willing to teach me if I came back during my time at the academy? If I had a long enough time on leave, that is. Or maybe I could come back after."

"Even if he refuses, I'll plead your case," she pledged.

"Why would you do that if I'm going to become a soldier?"

"Because you're a good person." She hesitated and then sat in the chair beside his. "And because I don't want to see all those years of work go to waste."

"I'm sure he'll see to that himself," said Roy.

"He would carry it to the grave if he didn't think anyone was worthy of it," she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "If we can convince him that you are, then it would at least be put to good use."

Roy looked at her curiously. "And how are we going to go about that?"

"Well, for one thing," she said, getting to her feet, "you need learn how to make your transmutations look better."

"I had a feeling you were going to tell me to get off my ass and go study," he said sheepishly.

"You can do that later. I was actually going to tell you to get off your ass and come to the market with me." Grabbing his hands, she pulled him to his feet. "I have to go back to school soon and I want to spend as much time with you as I can before then."

"At least we'll be able to study together," he said as he followed her into the hall.

"I'd like that." She stepped into her shoes and tucked her coin purse into a pocket. "Ready?"

"I forgot something upstairs. One minute." He ran to his room and removed two thousand cenz from the nightstand's drawer. When he returned, he handed the money to Riza.

"I can't accept this," she said, holding it out to him. "You're paying room and board for the month, and when I asked Father, he told me that includes groceries."

"Please keep it." He closed her hand around the coins. "I want to help."

She sighed and put the money in her purse. "It's awfully hard to say no when you look at me like that."

"If that's the case, I'll give you more," he said, turning toward the stairs.

"Please don't. This is more than enough for now." With a faint smile spreading across her face, she opened the door. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He followed her out and they walked side by side down the dusty road to the village. He hadn't been there since the day he arrived, and even then he hadn't seen much of the town beyond the station and the main road. As the buildings came into view, he noticed changes in Riza's posture: she held her head higher and thrust her chin out. Her steps were stiff and even and her face was expressionless. "Are you okay?"

She nodded curtly and he moved closer to her, wonder how she would react if he held her hand. If their positions were reversed, he would probably have asked her to hold his, but she didn't seem to want protection. She had walked alone for so long that, while she always seemed grateful for his help, she still seemed somewhat uncomfortable with it. _She's a lot stronger than I'll ever be_. And he admired her all the more because of it. Tiny though she was, he had no doubt that she would have been just as capable of carrying him home from the woods if he had broken his ankle. After dragging deer across that ramshackle old bridge, he assumed a scrawny boy would be easy to manage.

Cramming his hands in his pockets, he looked around curiously, hoping to get some insight into Riza's life as they approached the town nestled among green hills. The buildings were smaller than the ones in Central, but they seemed imposing in their own way, perhaps because of the way Riza had spoken of their inhabitants. He noticed the church she had spoken of, alone on a small hill, not far from the road they were on. It looked almost as abandoned and rundown as the Hawkeye home. Between the church and the village was a cemetery and he wondered if Riza's mother was buried there.

The market was on the outskirts of town: a collection of stalls set up in a grassy field. They went from stall to stall as Riza made note of the different prices for fresh fruits and vegetables. After they had visited each stand, she made her purchases and they wandered back toward the exit. Before they could reach it, Riza stopped and Roy turned to see what had caught her eye. He glanced at the prices beside each piece of jewelry on display and his heart sank. Even the lowest were beyond what he could afford.

"My mother had something like this," she said, pointing at a pearl necklace. "She let me wear it sometimes, and when she got sick, she said I could have it, but Father insisted on burying her in it."

Roy stared at the price tag: two million cenz. It would take ages to save up that kind of money, unless… _If I were to try for qualification as a State Alchemist, I could afford it in a heartbeat. But would she accept that kind of gift?_ She had been reluctant to accept even a tenth of a percent of what the necklace cost, and something like this could be seen in a more romantic than he intended. "I'm sorry," he said.

"It's fine. I had just wondered how much it would cost to buy something like it. So I could have a piece of her." She walked away sadly and Roy followed her, putting his arm around her shoulders.

"I wish I could do something to help," he said.

"You could help me cook lunch," she said, shifting the sack of groceries to one arm so she could put an arm around Roy as well. "Hey, Roy, do you have anything from your parents?"

He shook his head. "Just pictures. I was so young when they died that I don't really remember them, but I wish I had some way of knowing them. Sometimes my aunt told me stories about growing up with my father, but she didn't know my mother very well." He looked up toward the distant mountains, far beyond the Hawkeye residence.

Riza leaned her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said softly, her words almost lost in the summer breeze. "I think that would be worse. As hard as it was to lose my mother, I'm glad I got to know her."

"I'm glad you did too." He pulled her closer as they walked up the road toward her house, wondering if any villagers were watching them and hoping that no one was. The last thing Riza needed before the new school year started was a flood of rumors about a new boyfriend.


	8. Perspective

As if it were not enough for the alchemical notes to be coded in poetry, those poems just had to have been limericks, and Roy had seriously considered throwing the book across the room at least three times an hour for the past two days. Thus far, all he had gathered was that the three cubes Master Hawkeye had given him were made of bronze, and that was due to observation rather than his readings. Half the limericks seemed to be about toast and the different spreads a person could use to enhance its flavor. He had found it amusing on the first page, but now it only irritated him, and when Riza had made toast for breakfast that morning, he had returned to his room. Hungry and irritated, he turned to the next page to find a poem about the delights of raspberry jam. Having tasted some of Riza's, he was inclined to agree, although she had insisted the berries she had used were overripe.

There was a knock at the door and Roy looked up from the book. "Come in."

Riza entered the room and walked over to the desk, setting a bowl of grapes in front of Roy. "I thought you might be hungry," she said and she turned to leave.

"Please wait. I need a break." Popping a grape into his mouth, he stood.

"I've been wondering when you'd say that." She turned to face him, smiling. "You've been so diligent that I didn't want to disturb you."

"I wanted to be able to transmute these by the next time I see your father," he, gesturing at the bronze cubes, "but now I don't even think I'll even be able to figure out what the circle's supposed to look like by then."

Riza looked past him at the scribbled notes beside the open book. "At least you've figured something out," she said, moving closer to the desk to get a better look.

"Don't bother reading those," he said quickly, reaching back to flip the notes over. "They don't say anything important."

"Now I'm even more curious. Let me see." She slid the papers out from under his hand and he caught the edge. Grinning, she tugged at them. "Come on, you're acting ridiculous. What could possibly be in that book that you want to hide from me?"

"I thought you didn't want to know the first thing about alchemy," he said, trying to divert her.

"If you've been here for over a month, this obviously isn't the first thing." Trying a new tactic, she ducked and tilted her head, trying to see the underside of the paper. "Aside from that, I care about you and I want to know how you're doing."

Roy put his other hand over the words before she could read them. "I'm doing very well, thanks. And since you brought the grapes, I definitely won't starve, so you can go."

"I thought you needed a break."

"This isn't the kind of break I had in mind."

She tried to pull his hand away but he tugged the papers out of her grasp while she was distracted. Holding them over his head as she jumped for them, he carefully stepped around her and headed for the door.

"Unless you show them to me, I'm just going to assume they say 'Mrs. Riza Mustang' and that you have an enormous crush on me that you're too embarrassed to admit," she said. When he looked back, her arms were folded in front of her chest and she made an exaggerated, soppy face to emphasize her point.

"You can believe whatever lies you want, but that isn't what I wrote," he said.

She ignored him. "The dot of the 'i' is a heart, isn't it?"

Roy shoved the notes at her and she smirked as she began to read, but she had only glanced at the words before she collapsed on his bed in a fit of laughter. "This," she said breathlessly, "is what you were so secretive about?" She threw the first paper aside and scanned the second, still laughing.

"It's immature and embarrassing," he said. "I didn't want you to see that side of me."

Riza forced herself to stop laughing and looked up at him. "As if I haven't already." Sitting up, she patted the bed beside her. "I like that you're immature sometimes, because for once, I feel comfortable acting my age."

"What do you mean?" he asked, sitting in the place she had indicated.

"I had to grow up fast, and I don't get to spend time with other people my age."

"I'm older than you," he said, puffing out his chest.

"But you aren't afraid to have fun and you don't treat me like I'm younger. I love that." She wrung her hands and looked up at him. "I'm sorry I made toast for breakfast this morning. I didn't realize that was what bothered you."

"It's fine," he assured her. "I should have told you yesterday how frustrated I was with the stupid book."

"Is that really what it's about?"

"As far as I can tell, yes. I've read the whole thing twice and it seems like that's what every other poem is about." He sighed and took the second page of notes from Riza. After crumpling it, he tossed it toward the wastebasket beside the desk, missing his mark by a foot. "I know it's just part of the code, but I can't stand it. I just want to know how to manipulate bronze."

Riza rubbed her chin and turned to stare at the book. "Just toast?"

"Well, it's more about the different things you can put on it. But most of them don't make any sense at all, let alone together."

"Together? Like what?"

He wrinkled his nose. "Caramel with a bit of saffron in the last one I read. There were several with caramel, but I think that was the strangest."

"I can't decide if that's more offensive on a culinary level or a literary one," she said, kicking her heels against the bedframe. "Wait a minute, Roy, I think I've got it!" She jumped up and ran to the desk, picking up one of the cubes and tossing it to him. "You said this was bronze, right?"

"Yeah," he said, rolling the metal around in his hands.

"And what is bronze an alloy of?"

"Copper and tin, but I don't see where you're going with this."

"What are the other names of those elements?" she asked, examining the page with the poem in question.

"Cuprous and stannum but I don't see what—oh," he said, understanding. "Cuprous and caramel have seven letters."

"And so do stannum and saffron. It's lucky that's the one you stopped on." She finished reading and flipped the page.

"Do you think this could work?"

She nodded, turning to face him again. "You said that every other poem is about toast. What if the ones that aren't describe the circles for the alloys in the ones that are?"

Leaping to his feet, he hugged her and lifted her off the ground. He would have spun her, but the room was too cramped and he didn't want to knock her into anything. "You're brilliant, Riza," he said exuberantly as he set her down.

She shook her head. "I just have a fresh perspective because I haven't been staring at it for day. You would have figured it out soon enough."

"Don't underestimate yourself," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders. "I think you're wonderful and that you—"

"I know, I know," she snapped. "I'm the one who should be studying alchemy. You've said it before and I'm sick of hearing it. I'm not as great as you think I am." She looked down.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Riza," he said gently, pulling her into his arms again. "Maybe you need a different perspective too." After hugging her for a few seconds, he let go and stepped back, trying to meet her eyes.

"Thank you." She sank into the desk chair and buried her face in her hands. "I'm sorry. I'm just not used to having someone who believes in me."

Roy put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. "You don't have to apologize. You don't ever have to apologize for that. It's not your fault you've been stuck in this place."

She smiled slightly and turned her attention to the book that still lay open on the desk. "Alright then, let's get to work."

"You mean you want to keep helping me?" he said, surprised.

"Of course. We're making progress and I want you to impress Father as much as you do." She lifted the book and studied the poem that followed the one indicating the formula for bronze. "Let's do this in the kitchen so both of us can sit."

After picking up his pencil and the two pages of frustrated scribbling, he followed her downstairs. They sat side by side at the kitchen table and Riza laid the book out in front of them. Roy placed the pages of notes face down and laid the pencil on top of it in case Riza wanted to make notes. Glancing at her, he saw that she was completely focused on the words, frowning in concentration as she swept her bangs out of her eye. Shaking his head, he turned his focus to the book as well. "Why did it have to be limericks?" he muttered. This one didn't even seem to have a subject; while it fit the meter and rhyming pattern, it seemed even more nonsensical than mixing saffron into caramel and spreading it on toast.

Riza picked up the pencil and tapped it against her lips pensively. She drew a circle on the paper then set it aside. "Is it genetic or something?" he grumbled, examining the near-perfect circle she had drawn with so little effort.

Without looking up, she shrugged. "It might be, but I do have very steady hands."

Mentally kicking himself, Roy redoubled his efforts to decode the poem. Of course she had steady hands; after years of relying on her ability to shoot game in order to survive, it would be more surprising if she didn't.

After an hour that seemed to last at least three times as long as it should have, Riza looked up. "What is it?" Roy asked. "Did you figure it out?"

"Not yet. I'm just hungry. Do you want lunch?"

"I should probably finish those grapes you brought me." He pushed his chair back.

"I can get them for you," said Riza, standing and stretching. "I was going to carve a watermelon and take a plate to Father. Would you like some too?"

"Yes, please," he said as she left the room. Once she was gone, he turned his attention back to the book and picked up the pencil. He tapped the eraser against the page to the beat of the words, trying to decipher their hidden meaning. On the third line, he paused mid-beat then stood and dashed out of the room. Halfway up the stairs, he crashed into Riza, knocking them both down and sending grapes and pieces of bronze flying through the air. "Are you alright?" he asked as he helped her to her feet.

"I'm fine," she said, wiping a splattered grape off her skirt. "What the hell were you running for?"

"There's another book I need to see. The third line makes a reference to the symbol for copper, but I don't know what the one for tin looks like."

Riza beamed at him. "Excellent. I'm proud of you."

"Don't get your hopes up just yet. I haven't worked out the placement and there might be more lines to draw," he said, but he was pleased nonetheless.

"You're onto something, though, and I'm sure the rest will come soon." She bent down and began picking up the grapes.

"I can do that," Roy offered. "It was my fault for not paying attention to where I was going."

"I'll see you in the kitchen then." She continued down the stairs and he watched her go before getting on his knees to collect the spilled grapes. As he gathered them, he made sure to eat every one before collecting the pieces of bronze. He returned to his room and searched through the stack of books on the desk until he found the one he needed and removed it cautiously. Tucking it under his arm, he walked back to the kitchen, taking extra care on the stairs to avoid knocking into Riza again as she carried her father's lunch in the opposite direction. She smiled at him as they passed but said nothing.

He sat at the kitchen table once again and opened the book, flipping through until he found the symbol for tin. Referencing the limerick once more, he made a few notes of his own on one of the loose papers and then drew the symbols in the proper places within Riza's circles. He read the poem one last time before sitting back and staring at the circle. _There should be other shapes in there,_ he thought, narrowing his eyes at it. After a few seconds, he glanced up at the poem again, then flipped the page back to the original poem about the toast. On his third reading, he smiled and began to draw additional lines over the circle. He took a bronze cube from his pocket. Placing it carefully in the center of the circle, he found he had another problem: he didn't know what to transmute.

"Did you figure it out?" Riza asked, coming into the room.

"I think so. I just don't know what to make." He looked up at her and remembered that his Master had never said he had to make animals, only complex figures. As he turned back to the table, an idea came to him and he placed his hands at the edge of the circle. The whole thing lit up for a moment and when the transmutation was completed, a miniature likeness of Riza stood in the center of the circle.

"Is that supposed to be me?" she asked in surprise.

"Sorry," he said. "I can change it back. It's just that I was looking at you and—"

"No, no, don't change it. This is your best one yet." She reached towards it. "May I?"

"Of course."

She lifted the tiny replica of herself and examined it, gently brushing her fingers across the head to feel the texture of the hair. "This is incredible," she murmured, looking at the folds in the dress. An impish expression spread across her face and she poked a finger up the skirt.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Roy demanded, trying to fight against the heat he felt rising to his face.

"It's supposed to be me and I can put my hands up my own dress whenever I want," she said pointedly. "What I want to know is why you didn't make the bottom of the dress solid."

"I wasn't thinking about it that way," he replied, folding his arms in front of his chest. "I just pictured you exactly how you are and that's what happened."

This time it was Riza's turn to blush. "I suppose that makes sense. Still," she said, returning the figure to him, "it is a little unnerving."

Roy set the bronze Riza aside. "Relax, it's not as if I'm going to feel you up. I probably wouldn't have even noticed if you hadn't been messing with it."

"But what if it fell over?"

Roy sighed and moved the figure to the center of the circle to transmute it once again. This time, when it was finished, the bottom of the skirt was solid. "Better?" he asked, handing it to her once again.

"Much better. Thanks." She looked at it more carefully, her smile growing wider as she noticed each detail. "You barely even had a chance to think when you made this. How did you learn to concentrate so quickly?"

Shrugging, Roy looked away. "I guess it's because you're right there, so I didn't really have to picture you."

"Then let's go outside and put your theory to the test," she said, setting the figure on the table carefully. "Of course, you still need to practice transmuting what's in your mind, but working with what you can see for a while might help that." She dashed out into the backyard without bothering to put shoes on and Roy picked up the paper before following her.

She sat cross-legged on the grass and Roy sat beside her, laying the paper on the ground and removing one of the remaining cubes from his pocket. "What should I transmute?"

"Hmm." Riza thought for a moment before pointing. "How about that apple tree?"

Roy stared at the tree, trying to capture each leaf and unripe fruit in his mental picture of it. Without looking away, he put his hands on the circle and looked down once the energy had faded. The likeness of the tree was every bit as good as the one of Riza. He handed it to her, feeling proud.

She looked at it and nodded before placing it on the paper again. "I think we're onto something here."

"Thanks for helping me."

"Any time," she said, stretching her legs out and leaning back on her hands. "What else are friends for, after all?"

Roy grinned at her. "The same goes for you. If you ever need my help with something, I'm here for you."

"Thank you." She looked up at the clouds, the ghost of a smile on her lips as the afternoon breeze ruffled her hair. For a moment, as Roy watched her, he felt a wave of strong emotion wash over him, although he couldn't put a name to it. His pride in his accomplishments and joy at the chance to spend even one more lazy afternoon with his best friend before the time they had left to spend together stood out. As much as he dreaded leaving her, that time seemed so far that the thought of it was fleeting in his mind. Deciding that he was just nervous to show Hawkeye a figure of his daughter, he lay back and joined Riza in watching the clouds.


	9. Stories

If Master Hawkeye had been displeased with Roy for transmuting a figure of Riza, he had hidden it well. The man's face had been as unreadable as ever and Roy was glad to escape the sweltering attic and head out into the late afternoon sunshine to help Riza hang wet clothes on the line stretched across the backyard. The breeze blew a damp pair of pants into his face as he made his way toward the basket and she laughed. "You don't have to help with this, you know."

"He gave me more alloys to work with and we already cracked the code in that book," he said, taking a pair of clothespins and one of his own shirts from the basket. "It's only fair that I do my share of the chores."

"You're sweet," she said as he hung the shirt. "I wish my father were more like you. He seems to think that cooking and laundry and cleaning are women's work only."

Roy shrugged. "Maybe it's because I grew up surrounded by women who taught me to do whatever I could to help out, but I never saw a point to delegating tasks based on gender."

Riza smiled and opened her mouth slightly, then turned away, blushing.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's not important. I was just thinking something stupid." She hung a dress and hid her face behind the skirt, though Roy could tell her face was still flushed pink.

"Oh, come on," he prodded, pushing the garment out of the way. "I told you about the time I thought I could fly if I jumped out of a second story window holding an umbrella. It doesn't get much stupider than that."

She giggled. "You were nearly eleven years younger than I am, though."

"And I still have thoughts that are just as stupid at seventeen as I did at five," he told her. "But if you don't want to tell me, I understand."

"Someday I will," she promised, reaching down to grab the last of the clothes from the basket. "Eventually, I want to be able to tell you everything."

"And I can't wait to hear it," he said, realizing all at once just how much he wanted to know everything about her.

"Even the boring parts?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Especially the boring parts." He reached down and picked up the empty basket to carry it inside. "Just because you think they're boring doesn't mean I will."

"And you'll do the same, right?" she asked as she followed him back to the house. "Because I want to hear everything too."

He grinned at her over his shoulder. "Of course."

Once they were inside, Riza began laying out food for dinner. She had shot a pair of ducks that morning and Roy's stomach grumbled as he watched her pull the meat from the icebox. It had been a while since they had had any meat and he was very much looking forward to it. "You know, in Central, beef and chicken are pretty cheap, but you can only order duck in expensive restaurants," he said while he chopped vegetables.

She laughed. "That's because you actually have to hunt them." She sliced the meat into strips and seasoned them before tipping them into a frying pan. "But when you're trying to survive, it's easier to hunt than it is to buy a chicken someone else killed, no matter how easy a time that person had of it."

She talked about it so easily, as if it were just a natural part of life rather than something that troubled her, and in a way, he envied her. He had never been rich by any means, but the Hawkeye family's poverty and the uncertainty that accompanied it made him grateful that he had always known that he would go to bed with a full stomach in a warm bed. He wanted to assure Riza that someday, she would have that kind of luxury, but he supposed that would only make it harder for her to handle her current circumstances. He finished chopping the vegetables and tipped them into the pan with the duck.

"There's supposed to be a meteor shower tonight," he said, leaning against the counter while Riza added a few more spices to the meal. "Your father told me as I was leaving earlier."

"Oh." She didn't look up from her cooking. "I suppose we could watch it from the yard."

"You know, I've never seen a meteor shower before. The lights were always too bright in Central." He opened the cupboard and pulled dishes down.

"What a shame. The stars are beautiful here."

"I can imagine." He placed three plates beside the stove, then filled three glasses with water and carried two to the table, placing a fork beside each. He placed the third glass on a tray with another fork and leaned against the counter again.

Riza looked up from the stove to smile at him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

When the food was finished, she scooped a third of it onto each plate; Roy moved the first to the tray and carried the other two to the table. "You can start eating if you want," Riza said as she carried the tray out of the room.

Smiling, Roy sat and took a sip of water. She always said that, but he had yet to start dinner without her. Once she returned, he always waited for her to take the first bite and tonight was no exception. She had teased him about it a few times, but he felt it was only fair that the person who did most of the work ate first. "Thanks for dinner," he said.

"You're welcome. How does it compare to your fancy Central duck?" she asked.

"I don't know. I've never had any, but this is delicious." He took another bite, wondering how Riza always knew how to season a meal so perfectly. He supposed it must be practice, but even the less-than-adequate meals tasted better than some of the food he had eaten at restaurants in Central. _And this,_ he thought, _might just be the best thing she's made._

When they had finished eating, Roy took their dishes to the sink and began washing them as Riza left to collect her father's. He set the first glass aside and picked up a plate, watching as the sun sank below the trees. It occurred to him that watching the stars with Riza could be considered romantic and wondered why her father had suggested it, if indirectly. Even though he was alone, he felt his face grow hot with embarrassment and dread, sincerely hoping that Hawkeye hadn't brought him here in some twisted attempt to find a suitor for his daughter. He jumped in surprise when Riza returned to his side and began drying the dishes he had washed.

"Do you ever get homesick?" she asked suddenly as they put the dishes away.

"No, not really. I was the first week, and I still miss my aunt and the girls at the shop, but I like it here." He hesitated a moment before adding, "With you."

"I like having you here, too," she said, looking out the window at the darkening sky. "You might want to get a jacket if we're going to watch the meteor shower. It gets cold quickly once the sun's down."

"And what about you?" he asked, noting her sleeveless dress.

"I was already planning to get my own," she said. "I thought I ought to warn you."

"Thanks."

They went upstairs together, and as they parted outside their rooms, he realized he had never seen the inside of Riza's. Suddenly curious, he thought about asking but by the time he turned to do so, she had already closed the door behind her. He took a jacket from the closet and returned to the hallway where Riza was waiting for him wearing a pale purple sweater that was at least two sizes too large. He put his own jacket on and followed her downstairs and out into the backyard.

The grass was surprisingly warm as he lay down with Riza sitting cross-legged beside him. The sky was still purple from the sunset and no stars were out yet as he looked up, a gentle breeze ruffling his hair. With the dark trees on three sides and the house behind them, it felt as though he were watching from the bottom of a well. "Make a wish," he murmured as the first meteor streaked across the sky.

Riza laughed lightly and lay back as well, so close to him that their elbows nearly touched. "I don't need to make a wish," she whispered back. "I always used to wish for a friend and now I finally have one."

No matter how often she said things like that, he never felt entirely comfortable hearing them. He couldn't imagine how awful her loneliness must have been, but he could relate a little and he was every bit as grateful for her as she was for him. He thought of reaching out to her, but her hands were tucked under her head, mimicking his own position. He had heard the phrase joined at the hip before but he had always thought it was strange until he had met Riza. In the time since, it seemed they had joined not only at the hip but everywhere, as though their lives were so inexplicably intertwined that it would be impossible to tell where one ended and the other began, despite the differences in their personalities and whatever physical distance might lie between them. No one had ever understood him so effortlessly, and from what she had told him, no one had ever tried to understand her at all.

The stars had begun to come out and meteors streaked between them before vanishing into the royal blue of the fading twilight. Already, he could see more than he ever had on the darkest night in Central, and thick clusters of pale stars he hadn't even known existed began to spread from horizon to horizon, limited though his view of the sky was.

"Enjoying yourself, city boy?" Riza teased.

"Yes, I am." He turned his head to look at her and saw that she had rolled onto her side and was watching him rather than the meteor shower.

"I thought so," she said, rolling onto her back again, the stars reflecting in her eyes. "You had this look on your face, like you've never seen anything more beautiful."

"I suppose I haven't." He tore his gaze away from her and looked back up at the sky that somehow seemed closer, wondering what it would hurt to make a wish of his own as the stars fell above them. He had never been superstitious, had never believed in all the silly folk tales he had been told when he was younger. But for some reason, he felt as though, for this night only, it would be okay to believe in something childish.

"Do you know the stories behind the stars?" she asked.

"You mean the way it seems like every person in the old legends got made into some constellation or other?"

"Yeah. I used to like reading those stories, especially when I was younger," she said, turning to look at him again. "The people in them always had such exciting lives and I was stuck here, destined to be an outcast in a small town forever."

"Not forever. You'll get out of here eventually and you'll have a much happier life than any of them." He gestured toward the constellations. "I always thought that was the point of myths: to make us feel better about our own lives. Sure, they get to live forever in the stars, but we don't have to worry about destiny. We get to pick our own."

"I always thought that was stupid too," Riza said with a smile. "If someone is a hero, then that should be their choice and their deeds should be enough for people to remember them by. They shouldn't need a cluster of stars." She sighed and lowered her voice so much that he almost missed the rest of her words. "And if two people want to be together, they should be. They shouldn't have to accept such a stupid consolation. It's not as if they're still alive to learn that someone put their names next to each other on a map of the sky."

"I agree." He couldn't think of anything better to say; she had already voiced his own thoughts better than he could have done. They lapsed into silence once more, leaving Roy to think about what she had said and wondering what destiny she would choose for herself. She had told him once that she was still too young to know what she wanted for her future—apart from the fact that she wanted it to play out far from here. _And that she still wants me to be a part of it,_ he thought proudly. Of course, that could change, especially once he became a soldier, but he hoped more than anything that it wouldn't. _If two people…_ Her words reverberated through his head and he could dislodge neither them nor the budding hope he felt that she had forgiven him for his choice to become a soldier. For a long while, the only sound came from the chirping of crickets and a feeling of peace came over Roy as he listened to them.

After a few moments, he felt Riza shiver beside him and he sat up to remove his jacket. He reached forward and put it over her legs, which were crossed at the ankles to keep them from shaking; her calves were dotted with gooseflesh. "Now you'll be cold," she whispered.

"I'll be alright," he replied, smiling at her as he lay down again.

She lifted her head slightly to free her arms and stretched one out toward him. Her fingers brushed his elbow. "I'm glad you told me about this. It feels as if it's been years since I've been outside at night."

Her touch had sent electricity down his spine, far colder than the night air around them. He shivered in response to her words.

"You are cold," she said. "Maybe we should go inside."

"No, that's not—" He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to find the right words. He couldn't tell her yet. How could she possibly understand his desire to be close to her after so short a time? How could she understand that, wherever their lives might lead, whoever else might come into their lives, he would always want to be her best friend? _If two people…_ He smiled again at her words. _Maybe,_ he thought, _just maybe, she already knows._


	10. Surprises

On the first morning of September, Roy saw Riza off at the gate, wondering if he should walk to school with her after all. It was a beautiful, clear day and he longed to stretch his legs after spending the past few days cooped up inside, helping her turn the last of the summer's raspberries into jam. But she had insisted he stay behind, lest her classmates tease her about her new boyfriend despite their protests that he wasn't.

Once she had disappeared, he returned to the house to peruse the latest book Hawkeye had given him. He sat at his desk and flipped through it until he found his place in the section labeled "Winter Perennials." It was supposed to be a book that described the alchemy of certain ionic compounds, but he had already deciphered that part. Today, he was more interested in the surface level of the book. Along with descriptions of plants that contained encrypted research, each section included information about something called "The Language of Flowers." In his own notes, he had added the meaning of each flower beside the information required for the transmutation of ionic compounds. Perhaps it was stupid, but he liked the idea of being able to communicate in code. Even if he had deemed most of this particular code temporarily useless because it was dedicated to flirting.

Tapping his pencil against his chin, he closed the book and stared at his notes. Like the stack of papers in the bottom drawer of his nightstand, they weren't coded. He had a feeling that Hawkeye would be upset with him if he knew. Taking another blank sheet of paper, he wrote up a basic cypher only to scratch the whole thing out after a few practice sentences. It would be too easy to decrypt. Still, he couldn't think of anything as elaborate as he had seen in the books Hawkeye had given him; he doubted he could write even a basic limerick, let alone one that concealed his notes.

 _If only Riza were here. She'd know what to do._ If Riza helped him come up with the code, maybe they could use it to communicate. He didn't particularly want to leave notes in the open for her to find and decipher, but the idea of being able to speak freely with her no matter what the circumstance appealed to him. Turning back to the page, he decided the code needed to be as effective in its spoken form as the written. He liked the symbolism of flowers, but a symbolic language would be too obvious. If they used too many words in the wrong context, people might realize that they were hiding something. It needed to be something that could fit as naturally into a casual conversation as it did on a page.

When nothing came to him, he decided to get out of the room. He had to come up with it himself, he realized, because Riza wouldn't have time anymore. She would spend most of her day at school in the village, and come home to her usual chores. Suddenly, he felt guilty about sitting around doing nothing. While Hawkeye might argue that thinking of an adequate code was a suitable way to spend his morning, Roy could not, in good conscience, do that when he knew he could do Riza's chores for her. _Besides,_ he thought, _I'll still be able to think while I work._

He decided to start with the apples. She had said they needed to be picked before the birds got to them and he was still sick of being trapped inside. He went downstairs to pick up the basket before heading out the backdoor. The air was pleasantly cool as he worked and he was grateful that summer was coming to an end. Hawkeye's attic might just reach a bearable temperature soon. Once he had plucked the apples from the lower branches, he carried the basket inside and placed them all on the table. He went out again and climbed up into the tree, tucking apples in his shirt and carrying them down once it was full.

By early afternoon, he had collected the entire harvest; now, he sat munching on an apple as he leaned against the trunk, one leg dangling over the edge of the thick branch. As with the raspberries, this was the first time he had ever eaten one this fresh and he closed his eyes as he chewed. The fruit was crisper and sweeter than any he had eaten in Central, and as the juice ran down his chin, he wondered whether or not Riza intended to make cider with the harvest. If she didn't, he hoped she would let him. He had never done it before, but he supposed there might be a book that described the process at the village library. If nothing else, his aunt had taught him how to make apple pie, and while his cooking ability was far below hers, he knew he could make one that was adequate.

He returned to the kitchen and began searching for the ingredients, hoping that he remembered the recipe correctly. Once he had all the ingredients laid out, he began peeling apples. As he worked, he imagined the surprise on Riza's face when she came home and saw what he had done. That alone would make his efforts worth it, he decided. Trying to remember his aunt's recipe was difficult and he found that he was unable to concentrate on his original task of coming up with a code at the same time. He was also careful not to spill a single ingredient as he cooked. Even so, once the pie was in the oven, he cleaned the entire kitchen.

He had just taken the pie out of the oven when a confused Riza walked into the room and set her book bag on the table. "Roy, what on earth is this? It smells amazing."

"I thought I'd surprise you," he said. "Since you were at school all day, I did some of your chores for you."

She looked over at the apples surrounding her bag and then glanced at the spotless floor. After a few moments, an expression of astonishment came over her face and she ran across the kitchen to hug him. "Thank you," she said as he returned the gesture.

"You're welcome."

Riza slipped away and began pulling plates from the cupboard. "You didn't have to do any of this," she said.

"Yes, I did. It's not fair that you have to go to school all day and do your usual chores on top of it," said Roy, as he rifled through several drawers in search of utensils.

"Just don't let Father catch you at it. He'd probably be upset." Riza procured a serving pie server from a drawer he had already gone through while Roy set a fork on each plate.

He cut two slices of pie and scooped them onto the waiting plates. "Are we just going to tell him that you made this then?"

"If he asks about the smell," she said, carrying her plate to the table. "If he doesn't say anything, I think we should just eat it ourselves and keep quiet about it." They sat and Riza took the first bite. "This is great," she said after she had swallowed. "Maybe I should let you make the pie for this year's Harvest Festival."

"I don't know about that," he said, tugging at his collar. "I'm sure you could do better."

She shrugged. "I burned last year's and Father was furious. He still hasn't let me live it down."

"He shouldn't expect you to be perfect all the time," said Roy, bristling. "You're only human. Of course you're going to make mistakes."

"But I shouldn't have made a mistake on something so important." She set her fork down and went to the sink to fill two glasses with water. "There was a cash prize and we needed it."

Looking down at his plate, he wondered how best to comfort her. He took another bite of pie as she returned to the table, putting one glass in front of him and taking a drink from the other. "What if we both made pies this year?" he suggested. "That way, in case something goes wrong with one of them, there's still a chance the other will win."

"That's a brilliant idea," she said, perking up. "There are prizes for second and third place as well."

"This will sure be something to write home about," Roy said. "'Dear Aunt Chris, I'm getting much better at alchemy, but today I have more important news. I baked a pie and won a prize at the local festival. Love, Roy.' She'll certainly be shocked, if nothing else."

Riza giggled. "I bet she'll be proud of you too."

"Yeah, she probably would be." He continued eating and smiled slightly. "When is the festival anyway?"

"It's on the twentieth," she said. "I really hope someone wants to buy the extra jam I made this year. I'd love to have a little extra money to buy myself a birthday present."

"And when's your birthday again?" he asked, hoping she hadn't told him already.

"The twenty-third. When's yours?"

"January," he said, wondering what he should get her. He thought of the jewelry stall at the market, but he didn't know what she would want beyond the pearl necklace and there was no way he'd be able to come up with the money for that in only twenty-two days. She liked books, but he didn't know which ones she had or whether or not the town had a bookstore and asking about either would be suspicious. Perhaps he would simply have to wait until the festival came around and see what she wanted there. He didn't want to ruin the surprise or buy the same thing she did, so he would have to wait until he knew what was out of her price range and still within his.

"What are you smirking about?" she asked, reaching for his empty plate.

"Oh, nothing," he lied. "I'm just glad you liked my pie."

She raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing as she carried the dishes to the sink. He followed her, intending to help but she stopped him. "You did all the work. Let me do this."

He opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. She hated feeling useless as much as he did. "I was thinking earlier and I realized I don't have a code for my alchemy notes."

"You should probably fix that soon. If Father found out…" She set a clean plate aside and looked at him with concern.

"I know. I was just wondering if you wanted to help me," he said, drying the plate even though she had insisted on doing the dishes herself.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Why do you want me to help? Shouldn't it be something personal?"

"I suppose it should," he said. "But I still want to share it with you. I thought it would be fun if we had our own code so we could talk about whatever we want even if someone might overhear us."

Riza grinned and handed him a glass. "I think that's a great idea." She rubbed her chin on her shoulder and shook soap bubbles from her hands. "We should also come up with something to signal that we're going to start using the code. That way we don't have to look for hidden messages in everything."

"That's a great idea." Roy set the towel aside and drummed his fingers on the counter. "Got it! What if we tap on something first? Just two short, distinct taps."

"Perfect," she said. "And now for the code itself. I suppose you want something that will fit naturally into both of our speech patterns."

"That was my intention. Do you have any ideas?"

"Not yet," she said as she dried her hands and put the dishes away. "But I'm sure the two of us can come up with something."

They decided to go outside to think and sat in the shade of the apple tree, despite the crisp breeze that had sprung up since Roy had finished picking the fruit. "How was school?" he asked.

"It was school," she said. "I got stuck with Isaac Thornwood this year, and he's awful. Well, I suppose he's okay at teaching, but he's no different from the rest of the village: terrified of alchemy and cruel to me. If anything, he's worse than the teacher I had last year."

"If he's cruel to a student, then he's a shitty teacher," said Roy. "Isaac Thornwood…I suppose you could always call him It for short. 'Look, It's a horrible person!'"

Riza smiled for a second and then grew serious. "Roy, I've got it: reverse acronyms."

"What?"

"For the code," she explained. "If we tell stories to each other and use names to spell out what we're really saying, no one would catch on."

"You're a genius, Riza," he said. "I'll start rewriting my notes as soon as I can."

She smiled, looking pleased with herself. "You can go right now if you want," she said.

"And miss spending the rest of the day with you?" He shook his head. "I'll do it tomorrow while you're at school."

They decided to go for a walk. Instead of taking the road to the village, they headed in the opposite direction, heading up through the hills toward the distant mountains. The woods curved away from the road past the Hawkeye house, giving way to sprawling fields of dry grass that danced in the afternoon wind. The dirt track seemed to go on forever and Roy wondered if Riza had ever gone all the way to the end, wherever that might be. All at once, she took off running and he followed unquestioningly as she left the road and raced up a particularly steep hill.

At the crest, she stopped and Roy stood beside her; squinting against the sun, he looked down at the steep cliff a few meters ahead. Beyond that was a river that branched off into what he assumed was the creek behind Riza's house, and in the distance, he saw a train coming through the mountain pass he remembered from his own journey. It was strange to think that the blunt and private girl who had met him at the station was the same one who stood beside him now with a carefree expression on her face and the wind ruffling her short hair.

"This used to be my favorite place," she said at length as she looked down on the world below them. "Whenever I was upset, I'd come here and watch the world. Mother always said it was a terrible hiding place because anyone for miles around could see up here." She chuckled darkly. "But when I came here after she died, no one ever bothered to look for me, so I stopped."

Roy reached out and took her hand. "I'd have looked for you. I will always look for you," he promised, "unless you tell me not to before you go." She smiled at him and he squeezed her fingers. "I'm happy you brought me here. It's beautiful."

"You'll have to show me your places one day," she said.

"None of them are as nice as this. Unless you like back alleys and cheap food." He turned to look at her.

"It sounds like heaven," she admitted, tugging her hand away and attempting to smooth her hair. "I'd rather be anywhere but here and that sounds as different as can be."

"I can't blame you for that," said Roy, remembering what she had told him about her day. He walked to the edge of the cliff and sat down, dangling his legs over the edge. When Riza came and sat beside him a few moments later, he smiled. "I've always wanted to travel the world, just to see what there is beyond Amestris.

"So have I," she said. "Let's go together once I'm done with school. We can take some time and run away from everything to find what else there is out there. We could go north past Briggs or all the way south to the ocean."

The way she said it made his heart ache for her. She was so desperate to escape from everything she had known and he was honored that she wanted him to go with her. "We will," he said, tilting his head back to look up at a raucous crow as it flew overhead. "No matter what else happens, I promise we will."


	11. The Festival

Roy sat beside Riza as they peeled apples at a frantic pace. His thumb was bandaged where he had nicked it by mistake. She hummed quietly to herself as she removed the last of the peel on the apple and set it on the counter. "How do you do that so quickly?" he demanded.

"Practice," she said simply, glancing at the two apples beside him. "And you had to take the time to find a bandage."

"Yeah, I know," he grumbled. He wanted to finish as quickly as possible so that he would have more time to pick out a present for her at the festival. He had snuck away while she sold jam at the market the Sunday before, but he nothing had stood out as the perfect gift for her. Riza chopped her own apples quickly and began cutting Roy's as well. "You don't have to do that," he said as she took the one he had just finished peeling.

"I don't mind," she said, placing it on the cutting board. "We both have a lot of work ahead of us and I'd prefer it if you didn't lose any more blood. Especially not in your pie."

Once both pies were in the oven, Roy sat at the table while Riza paced the kitchen distractedly. "Do you want to play chess or something?" he asked.

She waved dismissively at him. "I won't let these ones burn."

"Neither will I," he said. "And we have plenty of time left; they just started baking."

She stopped pacing and sighed. "I know, but—"

"It will help you calm down," he said.

"You just think you have a better chance of beating me while I'm distracted."

He grinned at her. "You know me so well."

"And it's as if you don't know me at all," she teased. "I intend to beat you no matter what." Before he could protest, she darted out of the room and Roy sat back in his chair, wondering just what it would take to prove her wrong. Someday he would, even if it was the last thing he did.

When Riza returned, she placed the game on the table and resumed her pacing while Roy set the board. "Relax," he said gently, "it won't be done for at least forty minutes." She grunted in response and took the chair opposite him.

After only a few minutes, Roy could tell she was winning; no matter how distracted she seemed, her rapid moves always trumped even the most carefully thought out of his. It was absolutely maddening and he loved every minute of it. For what must have been the thousandth time, he wondered how it was that everyone in the village could treat her the way they did, how they could have missed her brilliance and determination. He thought it was a damn shame that she came home every day with weariness and defeat in her eyes and some sad story to tell. _At least I'm here now,_ he thought as he moved his king out of check. _At least she has someone to talk to so she doesn't have to hold it in anymore._

"Checkmate," said Riza, a smug grin spreading across her face. "You're getting better though."

"It doesn't feel like I am," he muttered as they put the pieces back in the proper positions.

"I had to think harder than I did last time," she admitted.

He made the first move. "You didn't show it."

"You were concentrating too hard on your own moves to notice," she observed. "That's why you keep losing, by the way. You need to think about what you know of me as much as what's on the board. "

"I don't see how that will help," he grumbled. "I mean, you could beat a stranger without knowing anything about them."

"Yes, but only because they wouldn't know anything about me," she said. "I know you, and I can use that to my advantage."

They continued playing and Roy tried to piece together what he knew about Riza. She was quick and calculating and guarded and that only made things worse; he was intimidated after taking stock of her advantages and it cost him a bishop and two pawns. Frowning, he tried to focus on the aspects of her personality that might work against her. _She's insecure,_ he thought, _but not when it comes to this. She knows she can beat me._ Pride was something he could work with. She was proud and stubborn and on very rare occasions, she let her heart rule her head. He wasn't sure how to take advantage of any of that yet, but he made an effort to analyze her moves. She was ahead and she knew it, which would only fuel her pride, and maybe she would grow so confident as to become careless if her winning streak lasted long enough.

By the time the pies were finished, he had put her into check once and he considered that a victory, if only a small one. He watched as Riza retrieved both pies and set them on the counter; the smell made his mouth water. "Do they let us eat any? Or is it all for the judges?" he asked.

"It's all for the judges, I'm afraid," she said, setting the hot pads aside and returning to the table to continue their game. "But we have plenty of apples left and I was planning on making another one tomorrow to celebrate."

"What if we don't win?" he asked.

"We will," she assured him as she captured his knight. "I'm certain we will."

When they had finished the game and put the pieces away, they ate a quick lunch before going upstairs together. Riza carried the board into her room while Roy went to retrieve his money. Once he had counted out enough, he returned to the hall where he saw Riza waiting for him, wearing a much nicer dress than before with a jacket draped over her arm. "How do I look?" she asked. "Like someone who could win an award?"

"You look fine," he said, mentally kicking himself as he realized "pretty" would have been a more tactful—and more accurate—thing to say. "But I thought this was a pie-making competition, not a beauty contest."

"I don't want to make a fool of myself when I collect my prize," she said, turning and walking down the hall.

"I don't think you could do that if you tried." As he followed her, Roy noticed that the dress was cut low enough in the back to reveal shoulder blades as sharp as her elbows and he felt a stab of pity. He decided he was going to buy more food for her, no matter how much she protested, and he would have to find the guts to refuse her when she gave him the bigger portion at every meal. Just because he was used to an easier life didn't mean he deserved to eat more.

Once they returned to the kitchen, Riza covered each pie carefully before wrapping clean towels around them. Roy took his and carried it to the entry hall where she retrieved her coin purse and grocery sack. "I don't have any pockets. Would you mind looking after this for me?" she said, handing him the purse.

"Of course," he said, tucking it into his pocket and suppressing a grin.

"And don't even think of slipping any of your money into it," she said as if reading his mind.

"You can't tell me what to think," he grumbled.

Ignoring him, she opened the door and they stepped out into the crisp autumn air. The trip down to the village was pleasant, although Roy had to squint as they walked into the sun. The festival was nothing like the carnivals of Central, with their carousels and Ferris wheels. It reminded him of the weekend farmers' market he had been to with Riza, but on a larger scale. As they walked past the booths, however, he began to recognize games from the fairs of his childhood. He wondered whether they had any shooting games, and if Riza had ever tried any of them. _She probably wouldn't want to waste the money,_ he thought as he noticed how trivial the prizes were.

At last they reached the judging area for the baking competition and they wrote their names on little cards. They left the pies and Riza folded the towels into the sack before slinging it over her shoulder. "What do you want to do first?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said. "What do you want to do?"

"Let's see what's for sale." She grabbed his wrist and dragged him past the carnival games, but she lost her willpower once they reached the food vendors, where she stopped to stare longingly at a stall selling funnel cakes.

Without saying anything to her, Roy pulled his arm away and stepped forward, pulling out his money. "I'd like two, please," he said, counting out the cenz and handing them to the man.

"You didn't have to do that," Riza said when he returned to a few moments later and handed one of the cakes to her.

"Yes I did. I bet they can hear your stomach rumbling all the way in East City," he teased as they headed toward a table.

She breathed in deeply before taking the first bite, closing her eyes. "I've never had one of these before," she admitted. "They always smell so good but they're so expensive. Thank you."

"It was nothing," he said, pushing his own plate across the table. "If you like it, you can have mine as well."

"I couldn't."

"I insist." He nudged it closer to her.

She stared at him for a moment, almost disbelieving. "We can share it," she said, finishing her own cake before tearing the second in half.

Roy put the larger of the two pieces on her plate before she could protest, then took a bite of what remained on his. He smiled as he watched Riza eat. Normally, she scarfed her meals down as if she didn't know when she would get another. This time, however, she ate slowly, savoring each bite. "If there's anything else you want to try, I'll get it for you," he offered once she had finished.

"I'm not hungry anymore," she said, licking her fingers. "That was delicious. Thank you."

Grinning, he handed her a napkin. She wiped her mouth and hands as they stood and continued toward the shops. After they had looked at several, Roy began to worry that he wouldn't find a single thing worth buying for her. She had made a decent amount of money from selling the jam and settled on a pair of reasonably-priced and surprisingly warm gloves. As she tucked the purchase in her bag, she declared that she didn't need anything else and Roy followed her toward what appeared to be a refurbished barn at the far end of the field. He tried to look at what else was for sale, but Riza walked too quickly for him to catch more than a glimpse of each booth they passed.

Inside the barn, they walked past rows of intricately patterned quilts, each marked with a name on a slip of paper like the ones at the pie table. "I wish these were for sale," Riza whispered. "They look warm."

"Don't you have a blanket?" he asked.

"Of course I do. It's just thin and has a few holes in it."

Roy thought about the quilt on his own bed; it wasn't as nice as the one he had in Central, but it was so thick he had hardly been able to use it during the summer. "So these are for a competition as well?"

She nodded. "And I didn't see any for sale outside either."

"That's a shame."

As they wandered up and down the rows of artwork past the quilts, Roy noticed that a man was following them. "Riza," he said, touching her elbow.

She looked at him in surprise for a moment and he pointed as subtly as he could. "Oh, that's just the Father. I told you about him, remember?" She waved and the man approached.

"Well, if it isn't Riza Hawkeye," he said, smiling. "And I don't believe I've met your friend before."

"This is Roy Mustang," she said, putting her hand on his back and pushing him forward. "He's here to study alchemy."

Roy shook the preacher's hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine," the man said. "I'm grateful that Miss Hawkeye finally found a friend her own age. The people around here do tend to be narrow-minded."

"Thank you for looking after her," Roy said. "From what she's told me, she might not be here to be my friend if it weren't for your hospitality."

"It was no trouble. I like to think that my own daughter might have turned out like her, had she lived," he said sadly. "Now, if the two of you will excuse me, I must be going. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Mustang. And very nice to see you again, Miss Hawkeye." He tipped his hat and continued through the gallery.

"He seems nice," said Roy as he and Riza resumed walking. "What happened to his daughter?"

"She died in a fire. His wife died trying to save her. He was out of town and didn't even know until he came back and heard the story from one of their neighbors." Riza bit her lip. "He told me he was angry at the world and God and everything, but then he came here and he found peace."

All at once, Roy saw why she had clung to this man in her childhood, despite their religious differences. Instead of shutting out the world in bitterness over his loss like Riza's own father, this man had welcomed her—and everyone else, it seemed—with open arms. Unsure of what to say, he simply nodded and followed her to the back of the barn where a woman stood beside a camera.

"Can I interest you in a photograph, sir?" she offered. "Only 800 cenz."

"What do you think, Riza?" asked Roy.

She shrugged. "It would be nice to have a picture of us, especially once you leave. But that's a lot of money and—"

"I'd like two, please," he said, cutting her off. He pulled the coins from his pocket and the woman counted them.

"Go stand over there," she ordered.

They did as they were told and each put an arm around the other as they smiled at the camera. When the two pictures were done, she gave them to Roy and they thanked her.

"Happy birthday," said Roy, passing one of the photos to Riza. "I'm sorry it's early."

She stared at it for a moment, a grin spreading across her face before she looked up him. "Thank you," she said, throwing her arms around him.

"You're welcome." He hugged her back until she pulled away to place her photo carefully in her bag. "You should probably take mine, too," he said, handing it to her.

"Maybe we should go back to the house to drop all of this off," she suggested. "We should have more than enough time before they start giving out prizes."

He nodded and followed her out of the barn. As they passed the food aisles, he smelled something that made his mouth water and made a mental note to find the source when it was time for dinner. They walked to the house quickly and spent only enough time there for Riza to set the bag on the kitchen table and remove her jacket from it. She put it over her shoulders and they set out again.

By the time they returned and made their way to the stage, someone was already announcing the runners-up for quilt-making and Roy looked over at Riza nervously. "We didn't miss it, did we?" he asked.

"No," she said. "They always announce the cooking competitions last. It takes longer to eat than it does to look at things. Especially when all the judges are sick because they went back for seconds."

Roy laughed. "You have a point there."

By the time the winners of the pie-making contest were up, Roy's feet were sore from standing still for so long in the cold and he wondered how Riza could stand it, especially since she was wearing a dress. He looked over at her and nudged her encouragingly. She smiled in return, but she still seemed nervous as she stood on her toes to see past the crowd that had gathered in front of them.

"In third place," said the announcer, "Riza Hawkeye." Her name sounded like acid in the man's mouth but Riza didn't seem to care.

"Congratulations," Roy whispered as her eyes widened in surprise. He watched her walk to the stage, grinning as she collected the money and wishing that she could have taken first place. Part of him wondered if she might have done better had the town been less prejudiced against her father. When she returned, she handed him the money and he tucked it into his pocket. His own pie didn't place, but he was hardly surprised. If Riza's was only good enough for third place, what chance did his have?

"Let's get something to eat," she said after a few minutes. "I'm starving."

They walked off in search of dinner, Riza still grinning from ear to ear. "What do you want to eat?" he asked her.

"Meat," she said and he couldn't blame her. It had been weeks since she had found any decent game and Roy had missed it too.

After several minutes, they found the source of what Roy had smelled earlier. They stepped forward to order their food and Riza held out her hand expectantly. "I'll pay for both of us," she said.

"No way," he protested. "You worked hard for that money."

"Then at least let me pay for myself."

Reluctantly, he took the prize money from his pocket and handed it to her. "Don't just order the cheapest thing on the menu," he told her. "Get what you want and I'll pay the difference."

She glared at him as she put her jacket on. "Why are you so concerned about what I eat?"

"Because you never eat enough." He put his hands on her shoulders. "I don't want you starving to death or getting sick."

"I eat as much as I want," she snapped.

He shook his head. "I can tell you're lying. I'm worried about you, Riza." Shooting the vendor an apologetic look, he pulled Riza into his arms.

"I can't breathe," she gasped and he loosened his grip on her.

"Sorry."

"You should be more worried about breaking my spine than about what I eat," she grumbled as she stepped away. Turning to the woman on the other side of the counter, she said, "I'd like a drumstick." She looked at Roy uncertainly. "Actually, I'd like two."

"I'll have some ribs," Roy said, passing Riza some of his own money.

"That's 2000 cenz, then," the woman said as Riza carefully counted the coins.

As they ate, the sun dipped behind the hills and Roy heard music. He turned to see a crowd of people returning to the area in front of the stage, upon which a band was playing a lively tune. "Do you want to go over there?" he asked when Riza had licked both her fingers and the bones clean.

"I don't know how to dance," she said, wiping her hands on a napkin.

"I could teach you," he offered. "One of the girls at the shop taught me how to waltz when I was your age."

"This is a folk dance," she said without looking up.

"Maybe it's just a very fast waltz."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, we could waltz quickly and directly into the entire village thinking that we're together."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Roy said, laughing. "And we should probably start heading back anyway."

They stood and made their way toward the road under the dark sky. "Thanks for coming with me," Riza said softly once they were alone. "And for the food."

"Thanks for bringing me," Roy replied, grinning.

"I just wish you could come next year too."

He looked at her sadly, wondering if he should stay for one more year before going to the academy; he hated to think of her being trapped here all alone again. _But it won't be the same as before,_ he told himself. _I can still write to her, and that's better than nothing._ Even so, doubts gnawed at him as they walked in silence. Words on paper could never compare to having someone who cared nearby but he knew that they would manage somehow. What else, after all, were best friends for?


	12. Birthday

It was still dark when Roy woke. He rolled over and groaned into his pillow before crawling out from under the covers into the cold room. The weather had taken a turn for the worse in the days following the festival and he was grateful that it hadn't snowed yet, although the sky had been overcast since the previous morning. After dressing, he crept out of his room and down to the kitchen, relieved that Riza was still asleep. He was somewhat disappointed she had refused to skip school when he had suggested it the night before but he couldn't blame her. A good education was her only ticket out of this town.

He cracked two eggs into a frying pan and turned the stove on, then went to the icebox to retrieve the ham and peppers he had bought the day before. He chopped them quickly and tossed them into the omelet as Riza stumbled into the room, yawning. "What are you doing?" she asked sleepily.

"Happy birthday," he said. "I thought I'd make breakfast for a change."

She smiled at him and sank into a chair. "Thank you."

When he had finished cooking breakfast, Roy joined Riza at the table and they ate quickly. Roy washed the dishes while Riza stared glumly out the window at the brewing storm. "You could just stay home, you know," he said.

She sighed. "I'm supposed to go."

"Yeah, and it's not supposed to be this cold in September and people are supposed to be nice to you, but it is and they aren't," he grumbled, scrubbing the frying pan.

"You are," she said, picking up a towel and drying the dishes he had washed.

"I'm just one person. You deserve better than that," he insisted. After a few seconds, he felt her arms around him and her chin on his shoulder.

"It doesn't matter that you're only one person," she whispered. "You're the best one I know."

Roy smiled, surprised by the affection in both her words and her touch. He reached up to ruffle her hair. "You're pretty great yourself."

She giggled and pulled away, smoothing her hair. "I should go. I'm going to be late."

"Can I walk with you today?" he asked. "I need to go to town anyway to buy a thicker coat and I'd hate for you to be alone on your birthday."

"You're certainly right about the coat," she said, "so I suppose you should come."

Once they had bundled up, they headed out into the cold, grey morning together. The wind cut through Roy's thin jacket and he walked close to Riza to share as much of her warmth as he could. During the half hour it took to walk from the house to town, neither said much; the brooding storm seemed to sap their energy. They parted at the church, quietly exchanging goodbyes as Riza sprinted toward the distant buildings before anyone could see them together. Roy sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he watched her go and a wave of loneliness swept over him. He wondered where he could find a coat and wished he thought to ask Riza before she had left. It wasn't a very large town, especially compared to Central, but he hadn't been inside the town since that first day, on the way home from the station. The market and the festival were both outside, and he worried he would get lost between the buildings. _I suppose it doesn't matter. They're probably all closed anyway._ It was still early, after all; he heard bells strike eight o' clock as he made his way toward the heart of the village.

He supposed he could ask someone for directions but he didn't like the idea of drawing attention to himself after everything Riza had told him. Even if she hadn't said a thing, he would have preferred to explore the village himself; the quiet streets were so different from Central and it seemed that everyone was still asleep as this hour. It was pretty, in a way, like something from a fairytale. He chuckled to himself, wondering where Riza would fit into that. She played the part of the outcast well enough, but she was hardly a lost princess. _A dragon, maybe,_ he thought, remembering her temper with the soldier in the woods. It would be fitting, after all, with her father's apparent interest in fire. His smile faded as he realized where she really fit in this story. _She's a witch; that's why they're scared of her._ And what did that make him? Stupid, probably, in the eyes of the townspeople.

Looking up, he saw a small coffee shop with an open door, and the scent made his mouth water. He hadn't had coffee since leaving Central; it was expensive here, and Riza had told him she only bought it during the coldest, darkest parts of the winter when she needed something extra to wake her up. Even then, she hesitated to do so, because her father didn't care for it.

He forced himself to keep walking until he found a secondhand shop with an open sign in the window. He stepped inside and the man behind the counter looked up from his newspaper as the bell tinkled. He looked at Roy warily before returning to his reading. There was a rack of clothing at the back of the store that looked promising and Roy headed toward it, wrinkling his nose at the mustiness of the shop. He looked through the clothes, but only one threadbare coat looked about his size. With one last glance around the room, he left, nodding politely to the man as he did.

As he entered the next shop, a woman in her early twenties greeted him. "Shouldn't you be in school?" she scolded when he asked if there were any coats in his size.

"I'm not from here," he explained as he searched the indicated rack. "I already finished school last year."

"Really?" she said, sounding surprised. "You look too young for that."

He scowled and looked at the price tag on a thick overcoat. "I'll be eighteen in a few months," he informed the woman as he took coat from the rack and tried it on.

"My apologies," she said. "Would you like to buy that one?"

"Yes, please." He took it off and carried it to the register. It was expensive, but he decided that it was worth the money to keep from freezing. Riza had told him time and again how awful this winter was supposed to be and he had no choice but to believe her. With as much time as she spent outside, she would know better than most what the weather would be like. Still, he couldn't shake his guilt at being able to afford such a luxury when Riza was pinching pennies just to survive and he decided to find a butcher's shop next.

An hour later, with several cuts of meat in his arms, he made his way back to the main road. He had kicked himself for leaving the grocery bag behind, but Riza probably wouldn't have let him take it anyway, insisting that he save his money for himself. _And I would have told her that the meat was for everyone, so in a way, I was saving it for myself. Well, some of it._

He returned to the house to find that it wasn't much warmer inside than out and wondered if there was any decent firewood around. After he put the meat in the icebox, he went into the backyard and collected a few logs from the pile he found behind the shed. Making a mental note to chop wood the next chance he got, he picked a handful of dry weeds and carried it all inside to the living room fireplace. As soon as he had, he realized he didn't know where to find a match. He allowed himself a wry smile as he realized just how useful Master Hawkeye's special kind of alchemy would be in this situation. Instead of bothering the man, however, he went to the kitchen in search of a box of matches.

He found them on the top shelf in the cupboard beside the stove and carried the box to the living room. He struck a match and held it over the weeds he had picked for kindling, but they did little more than smoke before the flame had traveled up the match to burn his fingers. He dropped it with a yelp of pain and it extinguished a few seconds later. Striking the second match carefully, he held it at the bottom of the kindling. The dry grass caught fire and he stepped back and sat on the sofa, feeling pleased with himself.

After a few minutes, he felt someone shaking him and opened his eyes to see Riza there, looking amused. "Did you have a nice nap?" she asked.

Yawning, he sat up and stretched. "It would have been if someone hadn't woken me up," he muttered, pouting at her.

"I guess I shouldn't have if you're going to be like this," she said. "I just wanted to tell you that dinner's ready."

"In that case, thanks for waking me." He swung his legs over the edge of the sofa and stood.

She smiled at him. "I'm the one who should be thanking you."

Confused, he stared at her for a moment before he remembered the meat he had bought. "Oh, good, you noticed that."

"Of course I did. I think it might just be the best birthday present I've ever gotten."

He was about to comment that she couldn't have gotten many decent presents, but thought better of it. There was a good chance that this was the first time anyone had so much as acknowledged her birthday since her mother's death. "I'm glad you like it," he said as he followed her to the kitchen. As they left the living room, the smell of her cooking finally overpowered that of the fire and Roy's mouth began to water. "You should have made me get up sooner so I could help you."

"I tried to when I put another log on the fire, but you just grabbed a pillow and rolled over," she said.

"Ah," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine. I know you haven't been sleeping very well lately." She ladled stew into a bowl and handed it to him.

"I haven't been keeping you up, have I?"

Shaking her head, she filled her own bowl. "I'm having trouble falling asleep too. It's been so cold at night and it's not even winter yet."

"Are you going to be alright?" Roy asked. His own lack of sleep had little to do with the temperature and he felt guilty.

"I should get used to it eventually," she said. "Father hasn't had an apprentice this long before, so I always took the extra blanket."

Roy sighed and stared down at his stew, wishing there were something he could do. Riza would never accept his blanket, and he had a feeling that offering to share would make her uncomfortable. Even if she did see it as a matter of practicality rather than a romantic gesture, her father would certainly have Roy's head if he found out. Still, he hated that it was his fault, however indirectly, that his best friend wasn't sleeping well. "Riza," he said hesitantly, "don't take this the wrong way, but if you get too cold, you can come to my room. The bed's big enough that we wouldn't even touch if you…you know."

Riza's face flushed slightly and she narrowed her eyes at him for a moment before looking away. "It's very kind of you to offer, but it wouldn't be proper. If Father found out…"

"Yeah, I know," he muttered. "It was stupid of me to even mention it, but I don't want you losing sleep for my sake."

She reached across the table and put a hand over his. "No, it was sweet of you. I know you have your heart in the right place, Roy, and I'll consider your offer. It's just that, for now, it wouldn't feel right."

"I understand," he said.

"I knew you would. Besides, it should be warmer tonight because of the fire."

When they had eaten and washed the dishes, they returned to the living room and sat on the rug to warm their hands. As he looked over at her, Roy noticed the dark circles under Riza's eyes for the first time and felt another surge of guilt before turning his gaze back to the flames. It was strange to think that Master Hawkeye might someday teach him how to control them, and it was terrifying to imagine himself wielding power over something so dangerous. The risk of hurting someone he cared about by mistake was so great that he realized for the first time how important it was to learn how to focus his thoughts when it came to transmutation. A block of metal couldn't hurt anyone if it was shaped wrong, but without proper focus, he could kill someone trying to light a candle. He shook the thought from his head; the last thing he needed was a night plagued with images of Riza maimed or killed at his hand. It was hard enough to sleep as it was, and he didn't want what little he got plagued by nightmares either.

"Is something wrong?" Riza asked, looking at him with wide eyes.

He shook his head. "I just let my mind wander somewhere it shouldn't have."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Putting a hand on his arm, she smiled slightly, trying to reassure him.

"No, I was just worrying about the future. About alchemy."

"Oh," she said, pulling away as though his words had sent a jolt of electricity through her.

The loss of contact hurt, but he couldn't really blame her. Perhaps she had seen his thoughts in the flames before them, or more likely, she was thinking of whatever it was that had put her off alchemy in the first place. He shuddered to think what that was: so personal that she refused to speak of it, even to him, and so painful that she couldn't hide her distress over the topic. It amazed him she had been so willing—and even eager—to help him when he needed it, in spite of the anguish it caused her. He watched her for a time; her face was expressionless but there was sadness in her eyes, buried beneath the reflected flames.

He wanted to help, but all he could do was put an arm around her shoulders and hope that would comfort her, if only a little. When she leaned against him, he smiled and looked over to see that she had fallen asleep. Gently, so as not to wake her, he carried her to the sofa where she curled up contentedly. He went to the entryway and removed his coat from the rack before returning to drape it over his friend. She murmured sleepily for a moment before burying her face in the cushion as her fingers curled around the edge of the coat. Uneasy about leaving her alone with the fire still going, he settled on the rug once more to watch the flames devour the last of the wood.


	13. The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bullying cw for this chapter.

By the end of October, Roy had fallen into the habit of studying alchemy in front of the fire, which served as a source of both warmth and motivation. He lay on his stomach, rereading a passage that explained how a person could determine the chemical composition of various types of stone in an attempt to commit the information to memory. He closed his eyes and began reciting what he could until he was interrupted by the sound of the front door slamming open. Pushing himself to his feet, he opened his eyes and raced out to see Riza standing there. Her face was red from the cold beneath wet, matted hair.

He ran to her and she sank against his chest as he hugged her. "What's wrong?" he asked, but she just shook her head and pressed her face into his shirt. Unsure of what else to do, he patted her back gently and held her until she pulled away. As she wiped her face with the back of her hand, Roy realized it wasn't just sleet that had wet his shirt. This was the first time he had seen her cry, which made this situation all the more worrying. "Did something happen, Riza?"

"It was stupid. _I_ was stupid." She sniffled and chewed on her trembling lip, tearing away a piece of dead skin until blood pooled where her teeth had been.

"You're not stupid," he insisted, wondering whether or not he should hug her again.

She turned away and hung her coat on a hook beside the door. "Yes, I am. You don't know what happened."

"Then let's get you warmed up and you can tell me about it over some tea," he said. She nodded slightly and stumbled up the stairs as Roy went to the kitchen to put a kettle on. It had just begun to whistle by the time Riza returned wearing dry clothes, her hair freshly combed but still damp. She sat at the table while Roy scooped leaves into the teapot, then poured the water into it and carried it to the table. While they waited for it to steep, Riza spun her cup absentmindedly, her eyes focused on the sleet falling outside.

"I made a mistake," she said softly as Roy poured the tea.

"Everyone makes mistakes."

She stared down at the steam rising from her cup. "I knew better than to speak up," she said. "I've always kept my head down before this." Her hands shook as she gripped the handle and lifted it to her mouth to take a sip, hardly seeming aware that it was still scalding.

Roy knew that asking her to explain herself would only push her away and so he waited, scooping sugar into his tea and stirring it, continuing to do so long after it had dissolved. Before Riza spoke again, she unbuttoned her cardigan and pulled it down, exposing her upper arms. Roy gasped when he saw the bruises: the skin between her elbows and shoulders was mottled purple and blue on both arms. Feeling sick to his stomach, he pushed himself away from the table, knocking his chair over as he rushed to her side. "Who did this to you?"

She shook her head and tears welled up in her eyes again. "It was my own fault."

"Don't say that!" he said, crouching beside her chair, resting his arms on his thighs. "No one deserves to be treated like that. No matter what you did, it's not your fault someone hurt you. Please, Riza. Tell me what happened."

"They were talking about alchemy," she whispered, clutching her cup tighter. "Some boys at school. I told them to shut up and they grabbed me." Roy's throat tightened and his heart felt as if it had stopped for several beats as he feared the worst. He held his breath until she continued, "They pushed me against a wall and one of them punched me in the stomach. Mr. Thornwood just stood there and watched.

"How bad is the bruise on your stomach?" he asked feeling his own twist into knots.

She shrugged. "If you get something for me to cover up with, I'll show you."

Standing up, Roy dashed into the hall and took his coat from its hook. He carried it back to Riza, then turned around and moved away to give her space until she told him he could look. Even from a distance, the sight of the bruise—far worse than the ones on her arms—made him sick, and he approached carefully, bending down to get a better look. "You should see a doctor," he said.

"It looks like there's going to be a blizzard," she said weakly, taking another sip of tea. "And I couldn't afford it anyway."

"To hell with what you can and can't afford. I'll pay for it myself."

"We shouldn't go out with the weather like this," she muttered.

Roy sighed and sat back on his heels. "Then we should at least tell your father."

"No! He'll be upset with me."

"Why would he be?"

"Because I didn't get away. He'll be mad that I didn't fight back hard enough."

"What more could you have done?" Roy said sadly. "You're small and you were outnumbered."

"I need to be stronger. He's told me that for years."

Shaking his head, Roy stood. "You're the strongest person I know, Riza. Now tell me, do you think you're going to be okay?"

"My stomach hurts," she admitted, letting her dress fall back into place. "But beyond that, I'm not sure. Do you really think I need a doctor?"

"You might," he said. "Come on, we should get you upstairs. At the very least, you ought to get some rest." He reached out to lift her but she pushed him away.

"I can walk, Roy. They didn't do anything to my legs." With a weak smile, she handed his coat back to him.

"Right," he said, feeling sheepish. He slung the coat over his shoulder and handed her his cup of tea. "You need this more than I do."

"Thank you." She stood shakily and Roy reached out to steady her but she had already regained her balance. Sipping the tea, she headed upstairs as he followed. "You can come in if you like," she said once they reached her room.

It was tidy apart from the book bag and wet clothing she had thrown on the floor; a bookshelf spanned one wall; its shelves were bowed under the weight of what appeared to be several hundred tomes. Most were unfamiliar, but Roy recognized several that he had read before. Even more books were stacked on top of the shelves and a few stood on the nightstand behind two framed photographs. He recognized the one from the festival, but the other looked much older. A younger, happier Riza—with an ear-to-ear grin and long hair done up in two braids—sat in the lap of a woman who could only have been her mother. She wore her hair short and looked so much like her daughter that Roy began to suspect that practicality wasn't the only thing that had led Riza to cut her hair. "You were a cute kid," he told her.

She flashed him a quick smile and set the cup on her nightstand before turning down the covers. "Thank you," she said. A stuffed head peeped out from under the sheet and Riza hurried to shove it deeper under the threadbare covers, a bit of red creeping up her neck. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to see something so childish. It's just that my mother gave her to me and—"

"I like dogs," he said encouragingly. "You don't have to be embarrassed. I wasn't going to tease you about it or anything—I like seeing your vulnerable side. When it doesn't come at the expense of your safety, I mean." He gestured toward her stomach.

"You're sweet," she told him, patting his arm affectionately as she strode toward the closet. She pulled nightgown from its hanger.

"I should go so you can change," he said, stepping toward the door. "And don't worry about dinner. I'll take care of it tonight."

"What about Father?"

"I'll talk to him first. Now lie down and try to relax," he said over his shoulder as he left the room. Closing the door behind him, he took a deep breath to steady himself. With a heavy heart, he made his way to the attic and knocked on the door.

"You're early tonight," Hawkeye said. "Come in, Riza."

Roy opened the door cautiously and peered inside. "Sir?"

"What are you doing here?" Hawkeye snapped. "I'm busy."

"I'm sorry, master, but something happened to Riza at school today and I'm worried about her." He told his teacher what had happened, emphasizing his concerns about the injuries she had shown him.

"That damn girl needs to learn how to defend herself," the man muttered, still engrossed in his research.

"Sir, it was at least two against one and they were bigger than her. She's badly bruised and I don't know what the damage is beyond that," he said, thinking of her fragile state of her emotions as well as the possible damage to her internal organs.

"She will be fine," said Hawkeye. "But you can tell her to take the night off. I'm far too busy to have time for supper."

"Thank you, sir. I'll let her know." Roy stepped out of the attic and went down to the kitchen to clean up. He wasn't entirely sure if Hawkeye had told the truth or not, but after what had happened to Riza, Roy didn't have much of an appetite either. While he washed the teapot, he stared out the window at the falling snow and hoped Riza would be able to sleep in spite of the howling wind that seemed to cut right through the walls. When everything was clean and in its place, he returned to the living room to continue his studies; the fire was down to coals and he put another log on, taking a moment to warm his hands before he turned to the books spread across the rug.

It was difficult to concentrate. As he read, Riza's words floated to the front of his mind, blocking out the ones on the page. Those boys had been speaking poorly of alchemy and he had a nasty feeling that she had stepped in on his behalf. The idea that she had taken such a beating for him made him sick rather than grateful. She didn't need to stand up for him to people who didn't give a damn about either of them. While he was touched that he meant that much to her, he hated himself for sparking that kind of admiration in her. She didn't deserve that kind of treatment just because he was her friend. _If only I were better at alchemy. I could show those boys that—_ no. That wasn't the answer. If he used alchemy for violence, that would only prove their point. _But I chose to study it so I can protect people. What good am I if I can't defend my best friend when she's willing to take on that much pain just for the sake of my reputation?_

He slammed the book shut and buried his face in his hands. He wanted to go to her, to tell her how sorry he was, but she would only tell him that it wasn't his fault and to stop being an idiot. She meant more to him than any other person, yet there was nothing he could do to ease her discomfort. With the wind howling outside, he knew he would never make it to the village in time to buy medication for her, and he couldn't fetch a doctor either. He didn't want to wake her if she was asleep and he didn't think she would want food anyway.

With a grunt, he stood and took the bucket from beside the fireplace, pouring water on the log and coals until they were extinguished. He turned out the light and dragged himself up the stairs to his room. There was no light visible through the cracks around Riza's door and he opened his own quietly. It was still early and he was in no state to sleep, so he rooted through the dresser for clean pajamas and went down the hall to take a bath. As he sank into the hot water, he wondered why he hadn't suggested this to Riza. Surely a bath would have done something to soothe her.

He dried and dressed himself, avoiding his own eyes in the mirror as he did so. After brushing his teeth, he went back to his room and flopped onto the bed, not bothering to center himself or even get under the covers until he started to shiver. Hours passed and he tossed and turned, unable to sleep with his head only half on his pillow and the storm howling so loudly he almost missed the knock at his door. "Come in," he called, reaching out to switch on the lamp.

The door creaked open and Riza stepped in, wrapped in a blanket and clutching a pillow to her chest. She rubbed one foot nervously on the other, its big toe poking through a hole in one of her thick wool socks. "It feels like the wind's coming through the window," she said with chattering teeth, her whole body shivering violently. "Would you mind if—I mean, would it be alright if I stayed in here tonight? You offered before and it's so cold…"

"Of course it's fine," he said, moving over to the other side of the bed. "It's already warm over there." He gestured to where he had been lying a moment before.

"Thank you," she said, looking as though she was close to tears again. She was obviously still unstable from the events of the day and Roy wondered if cold was the only thing that had brought her to him. As Riza spread her blanket over the bed, Roy shoved his pillow to one side and placed hers next to it. She got into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, curling up like a cat as he reached past her to turn out the light.

"Goodnight, Riza," he said gently, rolling so his back was to her. Still shivering so hard the entire bed shook with her, Riza managed to squeak out a goodnight of her own. Roy rolled over again and inched closer to her, hoping she would understand that he was only trying to warm her up. He hesitated slightly before putting an arm around her, careful not to put too much pressure on her bruised upper arm. Startled, she hugged her legs closer to her chest for a moment before she relaxed against him, letting out a long, shaky sigh. "Are you alright?" he whispered.

"You just startled me," she said, her voice much steadier than it had been. She laughed lightly as she pressed herself against his chest.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Oh, I was just imagining what Father would do to you if he walked in on us."

Roy's face grew hot. "But we're not doing anything. I just wanted you to stop shivering."

"I know that, but that isn't how it looks."

"It doesn't look like anything," he muttered. "We're just lying here talking."

Her head shot up suddenly, whacking Roy in the nose. "Sorry," she whispered. "I just realized that this is like a sleepover. I've never had a sleepover before."

"Well, having friends is sort of a requirement for that," he reminded her.

"The other girls talk about them all the time and it always sounded fun to me. I wanted to have one, but I was scared to ask you because you're a boy. Do you think we could sleep in front of the fire sometime?" she asked. "We could stay up too late telling ghost stories and play cards like all the other kids at school do."

It was a strange request, but Roy shrugged. "I don't see why not. Your father wouldn't come downstairs to check on us, would he?"

"I don't think so," she said. "And even if he did, the fire would keep us warm enough that we wouldn't have to touch."

"You're right," he said, although he enjoyed the contact. Knowing there was someone beside him whose warmth he could share in spite of the freezing wind and snow outside was comforting. And though he could feel his doubts whispering that this was inappropriate, he chased them away with the knowledge that Riza would never let him do anything she wasn't comfortable with. With Roy's warmth added to her own, she stretched her legs out and straightened her back. Her body grew more relaxed as the minutes passed and he realized she had fallen asleep. Smiling slightly, he closed his eyes and buried his head deeper into his pillow, letting the soft sound of her breathing soothe him to sleep as well.


	14. Aftermath

Roy woke to the strange sensation of something stirring in his arms. Opening one eye, he looked down to see Riza snuggled against him. It took a few moments to reconcile the scene with his memories and he realized she must have rolled over at some point during the night. He tried to move away but she only pressed her face closer to his chest, smacking her lips sleepily. "Riza," he whispered, trying to sit up. "Riza, wake up."

"Roy?" she murmured, shifting slightly. "What're you doing in my bed?" Her eyes snapped open and she pulled away, frantically snatching at the covers until she realized that her nightgown covered everything.

"This is my bed, actually," he said. "You were cold and upset and you wanted comfort."

Her eyes narrowed. "What kind of comfort?"

"Do you honestly not remember? You walked in, said you were cold, asked if you could stay, and when I said yes, you curled up and fell asleep."

"That's right," she said, looking confused, as though she had just woken from a dream. She tried to sit up and winced. "I hurt worse than I did yesterday."

"Then I'll bring breakfast to you," he offered.

"But I have to go to school."

He fixed her with a stern look. "Not after what happened yesterday. If anyone's going to school, I am. Someone needs to teach those bullies a lesson."

She laughed lightly and he could tell the motion caused her a great deal of pain. "You don't have to do that for me."

"And you didn't have to stand up for me to them either," he said.

"How did you know I was standing up for you? I only told you they were saying rude things about alchemy."

"Lucky guess." He leaned back against the headboard and stared up at the ceiling. "Will you promise me something?"

"What?" she asked.

"That you'll worry about yourself instead of me," he said. "I don't want you getting hurt again, especially not for my sake."

With some effort, she reached up to pat his shoulder. "I promise to be more careful. Thank you for worrying about me and for letting me sleep with you."

Roy's face reddened. "Er, Riza, you might not want to put it that way," he said, certain that if she said it again, it would be a one-way ticket to a particularly painful transmutation at his master's hands no matter how much he tried to explain that she had meant something entirely different.

"Sorry, I'm still a bit tired," she said, blushing as well. "I just meant that it was nice to share a bed with you. I haven't slept that well in ages."

"Neither have I," he admitted, but he supposed it was normal to feel more at ease beside someone he trusted and cared for. After all, he remembered climbing into his aunt's bed during thunderstorms or after waking from a nightmare when he had been small. _We're both much older than that, though,_ he thought, his stomach twisting; for the first time, he felt uncomfortable with the situation and he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood.

With a groan, Riza forced herself to sit up. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I'm just afraid that we made a mistake," he explained, moving to look out the window at the snow-covered yard. "Are things going to be different between us now?"

"You're an idiot, you know." She got to her feet, wobbling slightly. "It was an issue of practicality, and on top of that, I wasn't myself yesterday." Taking her pillow and blanket, she went to the door. "I needed someone last night and you were there for me, just like you always are. Thank you." She changed her mind about leaving and went to him, standing on her toes to put an arm around his shoulders.

He smiled at her. "Let's go make breakfast."

They went downstairs together, and even though Riza turned down the arm he held out to her, he watched her carefully to make sure she didn't fall. In the kitchen, she sat at the table, wrapped in her blanket, watching as Roy cooked. "If you keep looking at me, you're going to burn the food," she said, a note of amusement in her voice.

"I was just wondering if you'll really be able to take this up to your father," he explained.

"I'm bruised, not dying," she said pointedly, using the table to push herself to her feet. She walked over to the counter and took the tray from Roy. "I can do this; he'll just wonder why I'm not dressed yet."

Once she had left the room, he took their food to the table and started eating. He felt a little guilty about not waiting for her, but he hadn't eaten dinner and the smell only served to remind him how hungry he was. She returned and sank into her chair, bangs falling in front of her eye as she stared down at her plate, picking at the food. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"He was upset with me." She forced herself to scoop a bite of egg into her mouth. "Said it was my own fault and I should learn to keep my mouth shut."

"Then he's an ass," Roy grumbled, though he wasn't surprised, "and you shouldn't listen to him."

"I know. It's just that, if I hadn't said anything, this wouldn't have happened," she said, half-picking, half-stabbing at her eggs.

"And if they hadn't provoked you, you wouldn't have said anything. You may have spoken up, but that didn't give those bullies the right to hurt you. No one has that right," Roy said.

Riza looked up for the first time, and though her lips were still curved downward, there was a hint of a smile in her eyes. "I'm starting to come around to the idea of you as a soldier. This country could use a man like you in its military. Hell, it could use a lot of them, but even if you're the only one, it's still better than nothing." He could still sense a lingering disapproval in her tone, but to his relief, he realized that it was no longer directed at him.

He took his dishes to the sink and began to wash them while Riza finished her meal. "I've never seen this much snow before," he said, looking out the window as he worked.

"You're lucky, then," Riza said, carrying her own plate over. "It's a pain in the ass to walk through, and I have a feeling it's going to get a lot worse before the end of winter."

"So I'm guessing that's a 'no' for sledding and snowball fights and making snowmen."

She elbowed him, the motion gentler than usual due to her injured arm. "Hey, just because I don't want to walk to school in it doesn't mean I can't make the most of it. Although, we should probably wait on those things until I'm feeling better."

"Of course," he said. "I wouldn't want you to get hurt worse."

She grinned. "I can't wait. I've never had a real snowball fight before."

"You'll probably win," he said.

"Probably?"

"Definitely. I meant definitely."

She laughed and put the dishes away. "I'm pleased that you know your place."

They went to the living room where Riza started a fire while Roy went to fill the bucket with water. When he returned, he saw she had spread her schoolwork out beside his alchemy notes as she sat with her chin resting on one knee and flipped the pages of a book. He stretched out on his stomach beside her, looking at his notes to remind himself where he had left off the day before. As he found the passage he had tried to memorize, he felt Riza shifting behind him. "You okay?" he asked.

"Just trying to get comfortable," she said, pulling herself up onto the couch with her right arm and lying on her back.

"Do you want an icepack or something?" he offered.

She stared at him. "As if I want to be colder than I already am."

After a few seconds, they both started laughing, very lightly in Riza's case. "Maybe you should take a hot bath. That always makes me feel better."

She shifted and looked over at him, marking her place on the page with a finger. "I think I'll take your advice once I finish this chapter."

"What are you studying?" he asked.

"Physics."

"If you need any help, let me know. I'm good at physics."

"No need to brag, Mr. Know-It-All-Alchemist. I understand it well enough myself." She continued reading, absentmindedly flipping through the edges of the remaining pages with her thumb.

He turned away, shaking his head to clear it. _Focus, Mustang._ The words on the page before him were plain instructions but he had grown so accustomed to deciphering and inspecting each bit of text that the task of simply reading felt completely foreign to him now. He glanced up at Riza again but she was completely engrossed in her textbook and didn't seem to notice him. With a heavy sigh, he returned to his own studies.

"If you're bored, I have a whole list of chores I could give you," she said without looking up.

"Who do you think you are, my aunt?" he grumbled, shifting on his elbows and scowling at his book.

She ignored him and began counting on her fingers as she rattled off her suggestions of what he should do, "We need more firewood, the floors should be mopped, there's laundry to be done, the bathroom needs to be cleaned, and—"

Roy threw another paper at her. "Shut up. I'll do your chores later."

Giggling, Riza threw it back. "You might want to be more careful. I think that had notes written on it."

"You're right," he muttered, smoothing out as best he could. "At least it's still readable."

"I'm glad you didn't ruin it. Even if you are being annoying." She closed her book and sat up, stretching.

"Oh, so I'm annoying now, am I?" he teased.

"Very." She nudged his shoulder with her toes, moving him just enough off center to knock him onto his face. "I'll be back soon."

As he watched her leave, Roy thought about the chores she had mentioned and looked at the dwindling fire. With a sigh, he pushed himself up and extinguished the flames before heading upstairs to put on warmer clothes than pajamas. It was snowing again and he paused at the window to watch the flakes drift down to the large, untouched drifts in the backyard. It was beautiful and completely unlike the light snow he had seen the past few years in Central. It melted as soon as it touched the roads there, and even the parks received little more than a light dusting of white. It had coated the city once in his lifetime, but he had been so young he hardly remembered that. He turned away and went downstairs to put on his coat and boots before heading out into the cold.

The falling flakes clung to his hair and he tilted his head back, feeling childish as he stuck his tongue out to catch a few. It didn't matter; no one was watching him and he suspected Riza would do the same anyhow. After a few moments, he fetched the axe from the shed and went to the gate. The metal was cold against his fingers and he wished he had thought to bring gloves. _I won't be out for long,_ he assured himself. The fallen tree he intended to hack up was at the edge of the woods and he kicked the snow off of it before he began his task. When he had finished, he carried the logs to the yard quickly, shutting the gate after the last load. His hands were almost numb by the time he opened the door and stepped into the kitchen.

He was about to put a kettle on when he noticed that Riza was sitting at the table, the teapot already in front of her. "Thank you," she said. "I watched you from the window while I waited for the kettle to boil."

"You're wonderful, Riza," he said as she poured a cup for him. He removed his coat and hung it on the back of his chair before he sat, reaching for the hot tea eagerly.

Riza set it aside and grabbed at his hands. "You'll hurt yourself if you touch something that warm. Your fingers feel like icicles." She rubbed them gently, trying to share her own heat with him. "You should have worn gloves," she chided as she let go of his hands and passed the tea across the table.

"Yeah, I know," he said sheepishly. The steam rising from the cup warmed his face and he took a cautious sip. The liquid burned his tongue but the warmth that spread through his body was worth the pain so he gulped the rest down eagerly. When he finished drinking, Riza took his cup and filled it again.

When the tea was gone, they began to gather the dishes only to be interrupted by a knock at the door. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, both wondering who it could be. No one came out this way; they both knew that. Carefully, Roy set the cups on the table and went to the door with Riza trailing behind him, still clutching the teapot as though she had forgotten she was holding it. He stopped and took it from her trembling arms and set it on the shelf beside the door as she went to open it. As she undid the locks, she looked at him, her brown eyes so full of worry that he reached out to squeeze her shoulder reassuringly. She opened the door and the snow blew inside as they stared out into the bleak white afternoon.

"It must have been the wind. There's no one there," Roy said, feeling uneasy. Surely they both couldn't have imagined the sound. He looked over at Riza and he was certain it wasn't just the cold making her shiver.

"You don't think," she began, eyes wide, "that someone might have come to find me after the fight?"

"Fight?" he said, confused. "It sounded more like bullying."

"I might have thrown a punch or two," she admitted, looking down sheepishly as though she had meant to keep this from him.

He shut the door quickly, suddenly afraid that Riza might be right. "You should have told me that you hit someone," he chided.

"I didn't think it was important." She let out a nervous, wheezy sort of laugh. "I did give one of the boys a black eye when they let go of me. And I kicked another so hard he cried. That's when I ran."

He reached out and pulled her into a hug which she returned, pressing herself against him as though she wanted to disappear. "I'm proud of you," he said. "That may have been a stupid and reckless thing to do, but it was brave."

"I thought you'd tell me off."

"Don't be an idiot," he said. "If I had been there, I'd have beaten those assholes up too. I'm glad you fought back."

When she pulled away, she was smiling. "Maybe you should come with me next time," she said. "The two of us would be more than a match for them."

He knew she was joking, but nothing sounded more satisfying. For a moment, he imagined the two of them as vigilantes: her with her gun and him with his alchemy, one of his aunt's cigarettes between his teeth. It sounded like something from a film and the idea made him grin. "I look young enough that I could pass for a student if you want to try it sometime."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said. They returned to the kitchen to wash their dishes while the storm raged outside, occasionally rattling the front door and leaving no doubts as to what had caused the disturbance earlier.

"At least we already stocked up on groceries," Roy said once they had finished. "We'll be eating like royalty for a while."

Riza shook her head. "Maybe for a week, but after that we'd be scraping again. We need to make them last."

"Yeah, I know," he said glumly, staring down into the empty sink.

She reached over and patted his shoulder. "But I suppose we can afford to celebrate for one night. What would you like for dinner?"

"I don't know," he said. "It wouldn't be fair to make you bake a cake in your honor."

She grinned. "How about I make dinner and you take care of dessert," she suggested, hopping slightly as she pulled herself up to sit on the counter beside him. She twisted her body and leaned back to press her cheek against the cold glass of the window. Roy looked past her, staring out at the snow; it was falling harder now and had nearly obscured his footprints. By the time they went to bed, there would be no sign that he had been out there, and he was afraid that, by morning, they might not be able to leave at all. He turned his gaze to Riza and smiled slightly; even if the snow completely covered the doors and windows, he couldn't think of anyone he would rather be trapped with.


	15. Out of the Cold

When Riza returned to school the following week, Roy accompanied her. They moved slowly, forging a path through the thick snow that coated the road. Still, he didn't complain, remaining silent as he walked beside his friend. By the time they reached the church, he could tell she was trembling slightly, though he was unsure whether it was from the cold or her nerves. Feeling bold, he reached out and took her hand. "It's going to be fine," he said reassuringly, squeezing her gloved fingers.

She forced a smile as she looked at him. "I hope you're right."

"If anything happens, scream, and I'll be there," he promised.

"Are you just going to stand outside the building? That seems kind of shady."

He scowled at her. "What do you want me to do, enroll as a new student?"

"No," she said. "I just don't want you getting into trouble." She tugged her hand away and put it in her coat pocket, looking down at her feet. "I can look after myself, Roy. I don't need you to come to my rescue."

"I know you don't, but I can't stand the thought of you getting hurt again."

Her expression softened but she said nothing; the two of them walked in silence until they came to the school building. "I'll meet you here when it's over," she said. She waved goodbye as she went inside, leaving Roy with an uneasy feeling and several hours to kill. His legs were tired and he had no desire to walk all the way home before returning to meet Riza, so he decided to visit the coffee shop he had found on his last visit to town. The morning air was frigid and despite the exorbitant cost for even a single cup, he needed something to chase away the cold that had seeped into his bones.

When he stepped inside, the scent made his mouth water and he was so intent on getting something to drink that he scarcely noticed that several of the other customers were staring at him. "Good morning," he said politely as he stepped up to the counter. "I'd like a cup of coffee with cream and sugar, please."

The man on the other side of the counter nodded and Roy stepped aside while he waited for his drink. When the man had finished making it, he paid and went to a table. As he sipped, a young woman approached him. "Excuse me," she said, "you're that boy who's here to study alchemy, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he said, "what of it?"

She sat down across from him. "Why do you hang around the Hawkeye girl? Just because you're staying with her father doesn't mean you have to spend time with her. You could spend time with normal girls if you wanted to."

"She's my best friend," he said, taking another sip of coffee. "Aside from that, I thought everyone in this town hated alchemists."

"Some of us can make exceptions. After all, I've never met a boy quite like you before." She batted her eyelashes but it didn't make her any cuter in his opinion.

Roy gulped down the rest of his drink, trying not to flinch as the scalding liquid poured down his throat. He had never expected this. All his life, he had been made fun of for his Xingese heritage on top of growing up at Christmas's and he didn't like this any better. If anything, it was worse that she was willing to overlook her distaste at his alchemy just because he looked different. He felt sick. "I'd rather you didn't bother making exceptions. You insulted my friend." _And me,_ he added mentally.

"Oh, she's your friend, is she?"

"I already said she is," He stood and carried the mug back to the counter, the strange woman still following him. "I'm not sleeping with her if that's what you're insinuating."

"Now there's a relief. You could do so much better than her." She put a hand on his arm, but even though his coat, the touch felt wrong. She reminded him of some of his classmates in Central who had looked down on him for where he had grown up, had looked down on everyone he considered family just because they worked at Christmas's bar. Had looked down on him for his heritage.

"Is there something wrong with her? She's kind and clever and brave. And she's prettier than you'll ever be." He stormed out of the shop and out into the snow, pulling his gloves on as he walked down the deserted street. _Let them think what they want. It doesn't matter anyway._ While he was worried that his outburst might somehow come back around and hurt Riza, he had no desire to apologize; he had meant every word. He kicked at a snowdrift. If Riza ever found out that he had said she was pretty, there would be no end to her teasing, even if he tried to explain that it was an aesthetic thing. It wasn't like he actually _liked_ her. The idea was so stupid, it almost made him laugh.

He looked up and realized his wandering had led him to the cemetery and he was about to leave when he decided to pay his respects to Riza's mother instead. As he wandered among the snowcapped gravestones, he realized he didn't even know her name. _There can't have been many Hawkeyes here, can there?_ Most of the names were faded from time and the elements, but Mrs. Hawkeye's should have been legible after less than a decade of wear. When the church bells struck noon, he decided to head back; it would be easier to find the right grave when the snow had melted, or when Riza decided to show him.

As he left the cemetery, a sharp breeze picked up, cutting through his coat and making his nose sting as though it would fall off. He made his way back to the school even though he knew it wouldn't let out for several hours. He looked out at the yard and saw that Riza was sitting alone under a tree near the fence. "Hey!" he called, running toward her.

She looked up in surprise. "Roy?"

"Who else? What are you doing outside? It's freezing."

"It's lunchtime and I kind of hoped you were still around." She looked down at her hands. "Did you have a nice morning?"

"It was alright," he said, leaning against the fence. "I went to the cemetery but I didn't see your mother's grave."

"If you want, I could help you find it sometime."

"I'd like that," he said, reaching through the bars toward her. He had wanted to pat her arm but she was too far away.

Riza held out her hand to take his, but a bell rang out from the school building and she withdrew, fingers slipping through his. "I have to go. Thanks for waiting for me."

"See you later," he called as she waved over her shoulder. With a sigh, he slumped to the ground, watching until Riza disappeared into the crowd by the doors. She had seemed a little down, but he didn't think anything had happened, and it wasn't likely to in the next couple of hours. Even so, he couldn't help but worry.

The time passed slowly, but when he saw Riza rushing down the steps from the school toward him, he was glad he had waited for her. "Are you—?"

"Let's go before anyone sees us. Hurry." She rushed down the street with Roy at her heels.

"What did you do this time?" he teased breathlessly as they rounded the corner onto the road that would take them home.

"I talked to you at lunch and people saw. They kept asking me about my boyfriend, and I got in trouble for it because it was during class and I told them to shut up."

"And you assumed that if anyone saw me waiting for you, it would escalate things?"

"That's the gist of it."

Their pace slackened as they headed up the hill: the snow was too deep for them to run and they were both out of breath. The exertion left Roy's lungs burning but at least he was warm for the first time since leaving the coffee shop. His face flushed as he remembered what he had said as he left and he sincerely hoped that Riza would think it was just the cold if she happened to look over at him.

As they reached the yard, Riza stopped and bent down. "Are you alright?" he asked, turning in time to see a snowball sailing toward him. "Hey!"

"You said you wanted to have a snowball fight," she said, already scooping up the snow to make a second.

"I never said I wanted to be surprised!" He ducked but Riza had anticipated it and the newly formed snowball hit him square in the mouth. Scooping up a handful of snow, he packed it quickly and lobbed it at her. She dodged it effortlessly, aiming another one at him. "It just occurred to me that this isn't really fair," he said.

She grinned as her snowball hit him in the chest and sidestepped the one he tossed in retaliation. "I had a feeling it might be. But you're enjoying every minute of it, aren't you?"

In response, he bent down to pack more snow. He was determined to hit her, if only once. His face stung from the cold and from the blow it had been dealt, but that only fueled his determination. As Riza looked away, he threw the snowball and it splattered against her back. "I finally got you!"

"Good job," she said, standing up and walking toward him. "We should go inside; you're shivering. I'm sorry I hit you in the face."

"No, no, it was fine. I stepped right into it." He rubbed the back of his neck, regretting the action immediately as the snow from his gloves dripped down his shirt. He flinched at the sensation and Riza stepped past him to open the door. Following her inside, he peeled off the wet gloves and threw them aside before removing his coat and tugging off his shirt to claw at his freezing back.

"Are you okay?" Riza asked, cocking her head.

"I just need a change of clothes," he said and he dashed up the stairs, leaving her in the entryway.

"I'll start a fire," she called after him.

After putting on a dry shirt and a sweater, he took the quilt from his bed and hurried down the stairs to find Riza sitting in front of the fire. She had her legs tucked up against her chest, resting her chin on her knees as she watched the flames with a blank expression. Roy wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and she looked up at him. "Would you like me to make tea?" he asked.

"That would be nice," she said, smiling.

He went to the kitchen and began filling the kettle; as he stood at the sink, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Master Hawkeye standing in the dining room doorway. Roy jumped. "Master! What are you doing here?"

"This is my house," said Hawkeye simply.

"I know that, sir." Roy put the kettle on the stove. "It's just strange to see you out of the attic."

"Is it wrong for a man to want to see his daughter?"

"She's in the living room. She doesn't live in here," said Roy irritably as he pulled cups from their shelf and set them on a tray beside the teapot.

"I suppose not. I only thought she would be making dinner by now."

Roy thought of the expression in Riza's eyes when he had left to make tea. "I don't know if she's feeling up to it today."

"Did something happen to her?"

"I don't know," he admitted, looking down. "She seemed happy enough earlier, but now I'm not sure."

Hawkeye let out a long sigh. "In that case, I believe you should talk to her about it. You've done that girl a world of good by befriending her and I'm grateful for it." He stepped out of the room without another word, leaving Roy alone with the whistling kettle.

When he returned to the living room, Roy noticed that Riza hadn't moved at all. He set the tray on the floor in front of her and filled both cups. "What's eating you?" he asked. She shook her head and pulled the blanket closer around her. "Hey, come on, Riza, you know you can tell me anything." He put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Not this time," she muttered. "I don't want to."

He offered a cup to her. "That's okay. I just wanted to help you."

"You are," she assured him, holding the cup to her face and watching the steam rise. "You came to town with me today and you didn't need to. And I've always wanted to have a snowball fight, I just feel bad that I beat you."

"I didn't mind. Although I do want a rematch," he said, nudging her playfully. She gasped in pain as the tea sloshed out of the cup and into her lap and Roy pulled back. "I'm so sorry. Are you alright?"

"Yeah. It's just hot."

"It stained your dress too, didn't it?" he said, looking away in embarrassment.

"No, just the blanket." She set the cup back on the tray and reached over to pat his knee. "Stop worrying so much. It's not healthy."

Roy jerked his leg away in surprise. "I'm not worrying. I'm just concerned. There's a difference." Looking hurt, Riza withdrew her hand and Roy reached out to take it. He hadn't meant to offend her; he had simply been surprised at the gesture. He wasn't used to having his legs touched, and he would have assumed that Riza would find such contact far too intimate. As he moved closer to her, she shifted to sit cross-legged as well, something unreadable in her eyes that troubled him. She wasn't alright, that much was certain, but she would be. He would do everything in his power to make sure that happened, and as he put an arm around her shoulders, he decided he would start by making dinner.


	16. Warmth

Chapter 16: Warmth

Riza's strange mood continued into the weekend in spite of Roy's best efforts to cheer her up. He had long since given up on coaxing the reasons out of her, but he hated knowing she was in pain. She sat in front of the fire, knees tucked up against her chest, hugging them with her left arm while the right tapped a pen against her cheek. "Math homework, huh?" he said, bending down to wrap a blanket around her shoulders.

She nodded and scribbled an answer onto the page beside her. Curious, he sat as well and scanned the problems in her book. It was impressive how quickly she worked through the complicated equations, even though she obviously didn't feel well. In addition to whatever had upset her, she seemed to have a cold. He wondered if that had something to do with her evasiveness when he asked her what was wrong. If her throat hurt, it wouldn't be fair to make her give him a long explanation.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked.

"Milk, please," she rasped. Her raw voice made his own throat ache and he patted her back sympathetically.

"Of course."

In the kitchen, he put the kettle on and stared out the window as tiny snowflakes drifted past. He was a little surprised by Riza's request, since he had never known her to take her tea with anything more than half a scoop of sugar—and even that was rare for her. The price of milk meant that she only bought the powdered kind, and even that was saved for special occasions.

When he pressed the mug into her hands, she gave him a tiny smile and held it up to her face, letting the steam warm her. "Thank you," she said once she had taken a cautious sip.

"If there's anything else you need, just let me know," he offered. There was something admirable in her determination to finish her homework even though she was miserable. If it had been him, he might not have even gotten out of bed.

She nudged her math toward him with her foot. "Can you double check this? My head feels stuffy and I'm afraid I might have made some mistakes."

Frowning, he picked up her notebook and looked over her work, admiring her neat handwriting and perfectly organized calculations. As far as he could tell, they were accurate. If she wasn't his best friend, he might have been irritated with her, but instead, he was proud. "Good job," he told her, returning the notebook. "It looks right to me."

Setting her mug aside for a moment, Riza closed her notes and textbook and rubbed her forehead. "I still have to write a paper for history."

"Maybe you should write it in bed," he suggested. "You'll be more comfortable there."

She shook her head. "I'll just fall asleep. That's why I'm on the floor instead of the sofa."

"I had thought you were trying to get closer to the fire." Taking one of her hands in both of his, he rubbed her fingers gently. It felt as if all the warmth had seeped out of them when she set the mug aside.

"You probably shouldn't do that," she said, staring into the flames and making no effort to pull her hand away. "I don't want you getting sick too."

"I think it's worth the risk. It's not like I'm the one who has to go to school." As difficult as it would be to concentrate on alchemy with a cold, he doubted it would be any worse than the guilt he would feel if he spent the next few days avoiding her until she recovered.

With her free hand, Riza took her mug and finished the last of the tea, seemingly content to let Roy play with the other one. "I only hope that you don't regret it," she said softly and something about her tone led him to believe this wasn't just about a cold.

"Did something happen at school the other day?" he asked.

She scowled into her empty cup. "What makes you think that?"

"Just a hunch," he admitted. "There's something you aren't telling me, isn't there?"

"Yes." Shifting uncomfortably, she looked over at him and pulled her hand away from his. "I heard that you said I was pretty."

So that was it. Instead of teasing him, she had withdrawn and she had gotten sick on top of that, possibly from the stress. "But she was in the coffee shop! How the hell did she manage to—oh, never mind. I'm sorry, Riza. I didn't mean for that to hurt you."

"It's fine. I shouldn't have let it." She swept her bangs away from her eye and removed a handkerchief from the pocket of her cardigan. Wiping her nose with it, she forced a smile. "I'm sure you were just trying to help."

"Yeah, and look what good it did," he grumbled. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

"This was nice," she said, holding up her mug.

He reached out to take it. "So you want more?"

"Yes, please. And I'll come to the kitchen with you, too. It will be easier to write at the table." She took a history textbook from the stack beside her and tucked it and her notebook under one arm. Getting to her feet, she took care not to step on the blanket Roy had placed on her shoulders, and she clutched it around her like a cloak as she followed him out of the room.

Riza sat at the table and skimmed her notes while Roy watched. He ignored the kettle without realizing until it overflowed. Somewhat embarrassed, he turned the tap off and drained the excess water before putting the kettle on the stove. He looked over nervously to find that she was too engrossed in her own work to have noticed his mistake. "Is there any honey?" he asked. "It might help you feel better."

Without looking up, she pointed to the pantry.

"Thanks." Roy shifted nearly-empty spice jars aside until he found what he was looking for. There wasn't much left in this container either, but he wiped the dust from it and carried it to the table. Still waiting for the kettle to whistle, he lingered at Riza's side until she set her pen aside and buried her face in her hands.

"I can't work with you looking over my shoulder like that," she complained, though her stuffy nose took the edge off her words.

Unsure whether he was more irritated or concerned, Roy folded his arms across his chest. "Well maybe you should wait until you feel better before writing that essay."

"It's due on Monday," she informed him. "And I have to turn it in on time so Mr. Thornwood has nothing to hold over my head."

He considered offering to write the essay for her, but his handwriting looked nothing like hers and he didn't like the idea of cheating any more than she would. "Alright, but after you finish, you have to let me take care of you for the rest of the day. No more studying. No more homework."

"You've already done enough, Roy," she said steadily. "There's no need for you to obsess over me like this."

"Fine," he conceded. "How about when you're finished?"

She snorted, but the effect was lost when she began to cough. "What are you going to do?" she wheezed. "Tuck me into bed, read me a story, and kiss me goodnight?"

"If that's what you want," he shot back. "I'll even sing a lullaby."

Fighting back another wave of coughs, Riza covered her mouth with her arm and shook her head. "I don't need anyone to take care of me," she said weakly.

As he opened his mouth to protest, the full meaning of what she had said hit him and he stopped mid-syllable. Of course she didn't need anybody—she had been relying on herself for years. He tried to picture the little girl from the photograph on her nightstand cooking all her own meals, putting herself to bed, nursing colds all alone. It was too much and he wrapped his arms around her neck, resting his chin on the top of her head. "But after all these years," he whispered, "wouldn't it be nice?"

The kettle whistled and Riza shifted in his embrace. "You should get that," she rasped.

Nodding, he stepped away and dashed to the stove. When he had finished preparing Riza's tea, he set the bag on a plate to dry and carried the cup to the table. He pressed it into her icy hands and she breathed in the steam for a moment before adding a squirt of honey. "Is that really enough?" he asked.

She shrugged. "It will have to do. You know how expensive honey is."

He did not, in fact, have any clue as to the price of honey, but there was nothing he could say that would change her mind so Roy pulled out the chair opposite her and sat, watching as she drank.

"You're staring again," she informed him after clearing her throat. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but she already sounded a little better.

"Sorry." He averted his eyes, looking instead to the window and the tiny snowflakes that floated just beyond the glass. "It's going to be freezing tonight," he muttered.

Riza looked up at him over the rim of her mug and nodded.

"Since I'm probably going to get sick anyway, would you like to sleep in my room again?" Roy offered. "It'll be a lot better for you than shivering by yourself."

"I suppose." She took another sip and set the mug down, wiping her mouth on her sleeve as she did. "If you think you can face Father afterward."

That was the real test. Of course it would be difficult—if not impossible—to meet his Master's eyes after waking up next to Riza. But it would be even harder to meet Riza's eyes if he left her alone in the cold. "I'll get your things while you finish your paper," he offered, getting to his feet. "If that's alright, I mean."

"Go ahead." Frowning into her empty mug, she reached for a pen.

He ruffled her hair affectionately as he passed her on the way out of the room. "I'll make more when I get back. You can drink it in bed."

Upstairs, he spread Riza's blanket on his bed and tucked her pillow next to his. He sat on the edge of the mattress and examined the cover of the book he had brought from her nightstand. Frowning, he flipped it over and read the back, slowly remembering another, less worn copy of the same book he had found on Christmas's shelf back in Central. Once, as a curious twelve-year-old, he had tried to read it, but he had given up after only a few chapters, his face so hot he was certain it would melt. He supposed this copy had once belonged to Riza's mother but he had no way of knowing how many times his friend had read it and he placed it gingerly on the nightstand. There was no need to make it obvious he had looked closely at what she was reading. It would probably just embarrass her.

The sky outside the window was obscured by a layer of frost and he lay back on the bed, forearm over his eyes. Maybe he was already sick. His head throbbed slightly even in the dark. He tried to tell himself to get up, to go study before he met with Hawkeye in the morning, but it was the thought of Riza that managed to drag him out of bed. She probably wondered what was taking him so long. With a grunt, he got to his feet and left the room.

Quiet muttering reached Roy's ears as he stepped into the kitchen, and he looked down to see Riza asleep on the table, ink smudged on her cheek. She smacked her lips and mumbled something he couldn't quite make out. After a moment's hesitation, he reached out and shook her shoulder gently. "Hey, you'll be more comfortable upstairs."

"Huh?" She looked startled at having been woken so suddenly. "Was I asleep?"

"Not for long," he assured her, tugging at the pen clenched between her fingers.

Slightly more awake, she tightened her grip. "I haven't finished."

"And if you keep trying to do it tonight, you'll only make it harder to read," he said, licking his free thumb and using it to wipe her cheek, though he only managed to smear the ink.

Her chapped lips parted in protest, but she simply shook her head and sat back in the chair. A violent shiver shook her thin form in spite of the blanket drawn close around her shoulders.

Alarmed, Roy bent down and lifted her gently, one hand supporting her back, the other beneath her knees. "I've got you," he murmured as she slumped against his chest.

"I know," she whispered, and she was asleep before he had even made it to the stairs.

As he tucked her into bed, her eyes fluttered open. "I'm still in my clothes," she muttered.

"Well I'm not going to dress you, even if you ask," he said firmly tugging the blanket out from under her to spread it on top of the bed before pulling the covers up to her chin. With one hand, he brushed her bangs aside and felt the skin beneath for a fever. It was certainly warmer than the rest of her. She still trembled, even under the covers, and he wished he could do something to make her more comfortable. "Stay awake just a little longer, okay?"

She forced her eyes open wider and nodded, fighting back a yawn. "I'll try."

In record time, he reached the kitchen and searched through the cupboards while a kettle warmed on the stove. He had nearly given up on finding a hot water bottle when he felt the familiar texture behind the first aid kit. After filling it carefully, he returned to see Riza lying with eyes half open, true to her word. "Here," he said, placing the water bottle under the covers beside her.

She croaked out her thanks, but as he turned to leave, she caught his hand. "Please don't go."

It was too dark to study, so instead, he sat on the edge of the mattress and held her hand. She looked more comfortable now, and rolled onto her side, snuggling into the covers with a faint smile. "Is there something you'd like me to do?" he asked. "Or do you just want company?"

"Company is nice," she murmured sleepily, closing her eyes. Roy couldn't help but smile as he squeezed her fingers. There was something endearing about the way she looked all curled up and half asleep. As much as she had opened up to him, she still seemed guarded most of the time, but all that had vanished with illness and exhaustion. Even the last traces of discomfort from her sore throat were gone now, leaving her face as calm and pale as the snow gathering on the windowsill.


	17. Snowed In

Roy woke slowly with one leg dangling over the edge of the bed. He tugged at the blankets to find they were stuck and he looked around to see Riza curled around them, still fast asleep. In the weeks since they had first spent the night together, he had grown surprisingly comfortable with this arrangement. Even Riza didn't seem to mind anymore, although she had told him with a frog in her throat that she would only stay with him if it was cold enough in her own room to see her breath.

Those nights had grown more and more frequent as time had passed, and in the days following the winter solstice, she seemed to have set up a permanent residence in his room. Only a few days before, she had brought the pictures from her nightstand and placed them carefully on his, and it had made Roy's heart ache to watch her reach out and stroke her mother's face before turning off the lamp.

He felt that same ache again as she rolled over, twisting herself tighter into the covers as her eyes fluttered open. "Morning," he said, trying to keep his voice casual.

"How long have you been watching me?" She burrowed deeper into the covers until only her eyes and rumpled hair were visible.

He tugged on the blankets. "Since I noticed you stole these. You might as well have taken them and slept in your own bed."

Inching her way out into the frigid air, she smirked. "Maybe I'll do that next time. Leave you all alone in the cold, wishing you could snuggle with me."

"As if anyone would want to snuggle with a bony little thing like you," he said defensively.

"You're a terrible liar, Roy Mustang," she replied, worming her way toward him. He let her struggle for a few moments—tangled as she was in the blankets—before reaching out to pat her arm affectionately.

"I only snuggled with you that first night because your shivering was keeping me up."

"Uh huh. And that's why you have that look on your face," she said.

He frowned. "What look?"

"That look that says you're thinking about kissing me at midnight tonight."

"I don't know where you get these ideas, Riza. I want a New Year's kiss as bad as the next person, but that doesn't mean I'm just going to grab the nearest girl to get one." Shaking his head, he rolled onto his back. "I want my first kiss to mean something."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You don't honestly mean to tell me you've never been kissed."

"I told you I wasn't very popular back home. I had assumed you knew."

"From the things I've heard the girls around here say, I suspected that you weren't a virgin."

He turned to look at her incredulously. "It's rather hard to have sex when all the girls your age think you're diseased." In the silence that followed his remark, Roy closed his eyes. What was he thinking, talking about this with Riza? And in a bed, of all places. He decided that, since the line had already been crossed, it couldn't hurt to go a little farther. "What _do_ they say about me anyway?" he asked, opening his eyes again.

"Oh, you know, the usual: 'I don't care if he is an alchemist, I'd'—insert sexual activity of your preference here—'any day.'"

"I thought you said these were girls. Shouldn't I be the one who's doing the in—" He stopped when he realized Riza's face had turned a deeper red than he had ever seen on her before. "Sorry."

"No, no, it's fine. It wouldn't bother me at all if there wasn't a 'but he's obviously fucking that Hawkeye bitch' at the end of every comment about you."

"They really think that?" When she nodded, he felt his stomach tighten with nerves. "But I'm staying under your father's roof and I thought they were the ones who always went on about how terrifying he is."

She shifted in the blanket and he assumed she was shrugging. "Doesn't seem to matter to them in your case. As far as I can tell, they think the only possible reason that you would hang around me is because I'm easy."

He scoffed. "And they really think the kind of person who would take advantage of a lonely girl like you is worth sleeping with?"

"Apparently some of them do."

Moving to close the distance between them, Roy pulled her into his arms. "Well, that's their problem, but you can tell every single one of them that I'm not interested in people who don't respect you—or any other girl they might consider easy, for that matter. Even if I had had the chance back home, I wouldn't have taken it because of the way they talked about the women who worked at the bar."

Riza pulled away, rolling out of the blankets as best she could. "We should make breakfast before my father walks in on us hugging in bed and talking about sex."

"He'd roast me, wouldn't he?"

Nodding, she stretched, the sleeves of her nightgown falling to her elbows. She shivered and went to the door with Roy at her heels. When they reached the kitchen, the room was dark. "Damn," Riza hissed, making her way to the window. For the first time, Roy noticed the wall of snow that obscured the lower half of it, effectively sealing them in. She had warned him only the day before that this might happen. The way she had stared up at the gathering clouds while she dressed a deer had unnerved him slightly. He wasn't used to seeing Riza look frightened. Now, she merely seemed resigned.

He sank into a chair, trying to remember how much food remained in the icebox and pantry. A week had passed since they had last bought groceries, but they had eaten strictly rationed portions for each meal since then. "We'll be alright, won't we?"

She shrugged. "Things might get rough if the snow doesn't melt soon, but there are rats in the cellar, and we could open a window to get out if we're desperate."

"I think I'll take my chances walking to town before I eat rats," said Roy, nodding his head toward the snow shoes in the corner.

"You should probably leave that to me. I made those shoes when I was nine and they barely fit now." She looked down at her feet and frowned, leaving Roy to wonder if she was upset by their size or the state of her socks. "But speaking of the cellar, there's more down there than rats. Father's going to want wine with dinner."

"You mean _we're_ going to be down there with the rats?"

Her lips twitched. "Not if you're too scared to go."

"I'm not scared," he mumbled. "I just don't like their tails or the sounds they make or—" He trailed off as Riza put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"You don't have to come. It's not like I'd think any less of you for being afraid of rats." She scurried off, leaving Roy alone in the dark kitchen. Embarrassed in spite of Riza's reassurances, he trudged to the pantry. When he opened the door, he wondered just what had driven him there. After all, Riza was the one who knew how to ration the food, the one who knew what they were having for dinner. He glanced over his shoulder, so accustomed to her presence that he half-expected to see her standing behind him and shaking her head.

Smiling, he leaned against the doorframe to take stock of what was left, only to realize that dry ingredients were almost meaningless to him. He opened the jar of flour: half full. A few particles floated up, tickling his nose. He turned away to sneeze and looked up in surprise when he heard a soft "Bless you."

"That was fast," he said hoarsely as Riza set two bottles on the table.

"I ran," she admitted. "I don't really like rats either." Her eyes narrowed and she cocked her head in confusion. "What are you doing in the flour, exactly?"

Roy glanced at the lid in his hand before carefully replacing it. "That is a very good question. Why did you get two bottles of wine?"

"For dinner, remember?" She moved toward him and ducked under his arm.

"But why _two_?" he amended, ruffling her hair as she plucked a bottle of oil from the lower shelf.

Straightening, she smoothed her hair. "Because it wouldn't be fair if Father had all the fun, would it?" She blew dust from the bottle lid and smiled up at Roy. He smiled back, hoping that she wouldn't have too much of that fun. The idea of a drunk Riza worried him greatly and he considered telling her that she was still too young. Before he even opened his mouth, he decided against it. After all, Riza knew perfectly well that his aunt had let him have a New Year's drink every year since he had been twelve—almost thirteen, as Christmas had put it. Any argument against Riza drinking at the ripe old age of sixteen would be shot down faster than any goose she had ever hunted.

As Riza rooted through the cupboard, Roy examined one of the bottles on the table. It wasn't a particularly fine wine, of course, but he smiled when he noticed the year. "Hey, this stuff's the same age as me."

"That's why I chose it," she said, filling two cups at the sink. "It's done most of its ageing in our cellar, but I'm sure it tastes alright."

"I guess we'll find out." Remembering his manners, Roy got to his feet and crossed the kitchen to help Riza with breakfast. He could hear humming as he approached: a lively tune he didn't recognize. Riza stepped in time to her own music, bouncing slightly as she walked. He couldn't help but smile as he carried their cups to the table. "You're certainly cheerful this morning."

"Is that such a crime?" she teased, throwing a few sausages into a pan.

"No, no, of course not. I was just wondering why." He joined her, the heat from the stove and the faint scent of frying meat lifting his spirits as well.

She turned to face him and reached out to give his arm a gentle shove. "I've had a great year, and I can't wait for the next one."

"But I'm leaving."

"Not until the end of summer. It might even be fun to have a pen pal." Still smiling, she turned back to the stove. The sausages sizzled as she rolled them over in the grease and with a growling stomach, Roy thought they smelled even better than the store-bought pork sausage he was accustomed to. He gave her a quick, one-armed squeeze and she looked up at him in surprise.

"What?" he asked, withdrawing his arm. "I just wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?"

"For breakfast," he explained quickly. He figured it was best not to tell her that he was grateful for everything, especially since such a brief hug wasn't enough to show it. His stomach squirmed slightly as she smiled and he shook his head. _What's wrong with me today?_

As if sensing his unease, Riza frowned. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know," he admitted. There was no point in lying to her: she'd be able to tell if he did, and there was no need to hurt her like that, especially not after they had had such a frank conversation. _And maybe that's the problem._ He had always spoken openly with his aunt and the girls at the bar, and he knew it was perfectly normal for best friends to joke about sex—how many times had he heard his classmates do the same?—but for some reason, it was different with Riza. For some reason, it left him wanting something more than words could provide.

She reached up and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. "Maybe you're getting sick again. I think you might have a fever."

Ignoring the fluttering sensation that returned with her touch, Roy placed his hand over hers. "Of course you think so. Your skin feels like ice." He rubbed her fingers gently in an attempt to warm them and her lips curled into a reluctant smile. Was she still thinking about that midnight kiss? Or had it been nothing more than a joke? While he hadn't even considered such a thing before she had mentioned it, the idea had certainly grown on him. After what he had said about meaning, he had realized it was a stupid reason to shoot her jibes down. After all, who could possibly mean more to him than Riza? "Hey—"

She pulled away quickly, eyes wide as she raced to remove their breakfast from the stove. "Sorry, what was that?" she asked. "I didn't want the sausage to burn."

"Forget about it. I was just going to say something idiotic." There was no point in jeopardizing their friendship, no point in throwing his apprenticeship away with both hands. "Let's eat," he added, noticing the lingering curiosity on Riza's face.

Once they had finished eating, Riza went upstairs to bathe while Roy did the dishes. With snow blocking the view, and without anyone to talk to, the task was more onerous than usual. He scrubbed the plate in his hands slowly and mechanically, as though it would bring Riza down from her bath sooner. But he couldn't think about that. It was bad enough he had seriously considered kissing her; it would be worse to think about what she was doing upstairs. His face grew hot and he forced himself to concentrate on something else—anything else. The plates had a floral pattern around the edges and he decided to count the petals on the flowers.

"You're still working on those?"

He turned to see Riza standing behind him wearing a long-sleeved green dress and a concerned expression. Unsure of how much time had passed, but painfully aware of the forty-seven petals on each and every plate, Roy looked down at the water in the sink. Nearly all the bubbles were gone, revealing the fork and spatula still sitting at the bottom. "Sorry," he muttered, squirting soap into the pan as he picked it up.

"You didn't have to do it by yourself. You should have said something before I went upstairs." She sat on the counter next to the clean dishes and crossed her legs. After smoothing her skirt, she took the clean dishes and twisted to put them in the cupboard behind her head.

With the dishes put away and the sink draining, Riza hopped down, hugging herself against the cold. Roy put his arms around her and she snuggled closer to his chest, sighing contentedly as he rubbed her back. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. After a few moments like this, she squirmed and he let go. "Come on," he said, reaching for her hand. "It's warmer upstairs."

They spent the rest of the morning playing chess on Roy's bed, each wrapped up in a blanket. "Hey, Roy," Riza said, picking up a rook and tapping it twice upon the board. "Did I tell you about what happened the last time I went to town?"

"No," he said, tapping one of his pawns, "I don't think you did."

She thought for a moment before she spoke again, "When I was at the store, I took the last few apples and Cecilia Adder was furious at me. I would have told her that I was there first, but Nora and Yvonne were with her and I gave one to each of them. They're too little to realize I'm the town freak, so they're always sweet to me. Oliver and Uma are kind too. The last time I saw Uma, she gave me a flower she had picked."

"That was nice of her," said Roy as he captured one of her pawns.

"It was. Nora's nice too sometimes. I saw her help Daisy stand up after Ethan knocked her down." She looked up from the board to meet his eyes. "Do you like kids, Roy?"

He looked up at her, startled by the question. "As long as they're not bullies, I like them well enough. Of course, mine would never be bullies so I wouldn't mind having one or two when I'm older. Or was that just part of the code?" he asked.

"I guess it could have been a bit of both," she said. "I'm sure you've already figured out what I was going to say, but I'll keep going if you want me to."

"You're getting better," he said. "This time you spoke as though these people are real and not just made up. 'Can you understand?' That's what you were trying to say, right?"

Nodding, she moved her queen out of danger. "I guess I just need more practice," she said.

"You'll get the hang of it eventually," he said encouragingly.

She shrugged. "Maybe. I think I'm starting to understand how you must feel every time we play chess."

"Hey, I almost beat you last time," he said. "And someday I actually will."

"But you're frustrated that it's taking so long," she said with a faint smile. "Checkmate."

Roy scowled at the board. "Yeah, I guess I am."

Silence fell between them as he put the pieces back on the board. Riza stood and went to the window to stare out at the snow-covered yard, which was a lot closer than it had been that morning. The lower branches of the apple tree had already vanished beneath a thick white blanket. "I hope it doesn't get much deeper," she said. "At this rate, I'll have to climb out my window to get to school and you'll have to throw a rope down to let me back in."

"It's a good thing you have those snowshoes," he said.

"But if the snow doesn't let up, it might not matter. It may be warmer in town, but the mountains get heavier snow than we do and it might block the railway. If the trains don't run, everything else shuts down as well."

"So we might be trapped here until it melts?"

"Exactly."

Roy groaned. "Maybe we should go back to the cellar and get another bottle of wine."

"There's no need to drink yourself into oblivion. We'll be fine," she assured him. "If nothing else, there are rats, and if we run out of rats, there are still a few birds around. I can shoot them when they fly close to the house."

"I can't wait to try crow goulash," he said.

"I bet you'll love it. It tastes like chicken."

"It does not," he said, crossing his arms. "I bet you've never even eaten a crow before."

"I have, actually. Surprisingly, this isn't the first winter I've been poor. There have been years without so much as a snowflake, but I didn't have someone helping me pay for groceries so I still had to resort to eating what I could find." She grimaced at the memory.

"I promise you'll never have to do that again," he said, getting up to stand beside her. "I'll send you whatever money you need to keep you stocked for the winter, even when I'm gone."

"There's no need for that," she said, turning to look up at him. "Father might try to cut off all contact between us once you leave for the academy anyway and you sending money would only make things more obvious."

"Then I'll give the money to you before I go," he promised. Putting a hand on her shoulder, he smiled at her. "I hate to think of you living off of rats and crows."

"Thank you," she whispered as she put her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder. He returned the embrace, rubbing her back gently. She sighed and sank against him, sending him stumbling back in surprise as he tried to regain his balance.

"We should make lunch," he said as her stomach growled, but she shook her head.

"We still have to ration everything, remember?" she said. "And now we're going to have to cut down to two meals a day until we know how long this storm will last."

He sighed; he was as hungry as she seemed but he knew she was right. _If only I had thought of this before the snow came._ He should have bought loads of food the last time they had been in town, but he had simply let Riza handle the shopping and she had refused his money as usual. "And if we don't have any luck?"

"If that's the case, then I'm glad I already bought your birthday present," she said.

"You didn't have to get anything for me," he said, trying not to think about the possibility of spending at least another three weeks trapped in the house, eating only two small meals each day.

"Yes, I did. You got presents for me and it's something you need anyway," she insisted. He knew there was no point in arguing with her so he simply shook his head when she looked away.

"Would you mind leaving for a minute?" he asked and she looked at him quizzically. "I need to get dressed and I'd rather do it in private."

She left the room, pulling the door shut behind her as she did. He considered taking a bath, but the idea of stepping out of the bathroom into the frigid house made him shiver. Once he had changed, he went out into the hall to find she had already gone.

"I'm half-surprised that you aren't upstairs snooping through my room to find out what your birthday present is," she said when he found her in the kitchen, sitting on the counter beside the stove. One of the burners was on and he supposed there were worse ways of keeping warm.

He scowled at her. "I'm not a snoop."

"I think you're scared of what I'd do to you if I found out you were in my room without my permission," she said, picking a flake of yellow paint from the wall behind her and examining it. She pressed her thumbnail into it and looked up at him as it split in half.

"Maybe a little," he admitted. "But I do want to respect your privacy."

She smoothed her skirt, looking pleased with herself. "I wish more people saw me that way." Her lips twisted into a wry smile.

He put an arm around her. "Someday they will."

"I hope you're right."

The rest of the day passed slowly, and by the time they met Hawkeye for a late dinner in the dining room, Roy felt as though they should be celebrating the arrival of 1904 rather than 1903. Riza place a bowl of stew in front of her father and presented him with a bottle of wine. He grunted his thanks and she returned to the kitchen to get food for herself and for Roy, who sat stiffly in the same chair he had on his first night in the house. While she had allowed him to help in preparing the meal, she insisted on presenting it herself, and he wished with all his heart that he could have followed her back into the kitchen.

Riza returned and Roy breathed a sigh of relief as she placed a bowl in front of him. Unlike Hawkeye, who was already blowing on his third spoonful, Roy waited until Riza had taken a bite to begin eating. She noticed and smiled at him from across the table. It was nearly as glum a meal as the last the three of them had eaten together, but even though they ate in silence, the stolen glances he shared with Riza were far more welcoming than the loneliness and homesickness he had felt that first night. Finally, Hawkeye bade them farewell, carrying his half-empty bottle out of the dining room.

"Are you sure you want to drink that much?" Roy asked once he heard footsteps on the stairs.

She shrugged. "I'll have some water first, and I bet it would take more than half a bottle for me to get drunk." Setting the dishes in the sink, she turned on the faucet, moving her hands out of the way as she waited for the water to get warm.

"Promise me you won't find that out until you're older. I don't want you making yourself sick."

"I have no intention of getting drunk while I'm alone in this house. I'll wait until I'm out of school and then I'll be eighteen and we can go to your aunt's bar together." She held out a plate for him to dry.

Roy stared at her. "I don't know what things are like here, but in Central, if the two of us go to a bar together and you get drunk, I'll look like a letch who's trying to take advantage of you."

"That's stupid," she said. "If two men are best friends, they can try to drink each other under the table, and it shouldn't be any different for us."

He nearly dropped the plate he was drying, surprised at her optimism. "It shouldn't be," he agreed. "And I hope one day the rest of the world will realize that."

She smiled and dried her hands. "There's something for you to fight for once you become a soldier," she said, patting his arm affectionately. "Come on, let's go ring in the new year," she said.

"It's only eight thirty," he said, looking up at the clock.

"So we'll have three and a half hours to talk. I can't think of a better way to end the best year of my life." She uncorked the second bottle and filled two glasses. They carried the drinks and the bottle to the living room and he started a fire while Riza settled onto the sofa, tucking her legs under her and hugging a ratty pillow against her chest as she watched him. "Did you ever go to any fancy New Year's Eve parties in Central?" she asked.

"Nah, only the ones at the bar, and those weren't too fancy. If you want, I could find one and take you to it sometime," he offered.

"That's alright. I've never been one for parties. At least, I don't think so. I've never actually been to one."

"We can have our own party then, like we are now."

"I'd like that." She looked exhausted in the firelight, and Roy wondered if staying up was really that important.

"I'll be right back," he said, dashing out of the room and up the stairs to take blankets and pillows from his bed. Wrapping them in a messy bundle, he ran back, his foot catching on the corner of a blanket as he went down the stairs.

Alarmed by the crash, Riza poked her head nervously out into the entry. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Roy wheezed, looking up at her. "I had padding. See?"

She laughed and bent down to help him up. "You remembered after all."

"Of course I did."

Riza yawned as she accepted her pillow and Roy draped a blanket around her, smiling as she reached up and placed her hands over his, pressing them into her shoulders. "Is something wrong?" he asked; her muscles felt tense beneath his fingers, but he didn't dare massage them.

"I don't want you to leave," she whispered, tilting her head back to look up at him.

He gave her a reassuring smile. "I don't want to go either, but I haven't left yet. And I'm willing to buy a second ticket if you want to come too. You could finish school in Central."

"I wish I could, but I can't leave Father."

A small part of Roy wanted to turn her around and shake her, to ask if she was going to throw away the rest of her life to look after a man who barely acknowledged her existence. But she already had far too many people in her life to criticize her, and she didn't need that from him. Instead, he squeezed her shoulders tighter. "I'll come back. We're going to travel the world together, remember?"

"But that won't happen for a long time."

"And I'm not leaving for a long time." He pulled away and she turned to face him, a wobbly smile on her lips. Hugging her pillow tighter, she went to sit in front of the fire and Roy followed, dropping his things onto the floor beside her. He retrieved their glasses from the mantle and sat carefully, crossing his legs and taking a sip of wine.

"I thought that was for midnight," Riza teased, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Are you sure you'll be able to stay up that late? You look exhausted."

"I'm only a little sleepy," she protested, trying to hide a yawn behind her glass. Roy stood and she struggled to keep her balance. "What are you doing?"

"I'm speeding things up so you can get to bed." Taking the clock from the mantle, he turned it over and fiddled with the mechanism until it began to wind, then turned it forward four hours. "There. Now it's eleven fifty five."

Riza giggled into her glass as Roy returned to his place beside her, and really, that in itself made the act worth it. "I guess this means we'll be sleeping in tomorrow."

"That'll be a nice change," he said, trying to remember the last time he had woken up after eight. His old life in Central seemed so far away now; he found that mornings were actually enjoyable when he spent them with Riza instead of regretting a late night studying or helping his aunt at the bar.

"Eleven fifty-nine," said Riza, holding up her glass.

"Happy 1903, Riza." Roy tapped his own glass against hers.

Taking the empty glasses, Riza stood and put them on the mantle. For a moment, he thought she was about to refill them, but she turned instead, frowning at the sofa. "Would you help me move the cushion, Roy? It'll be a lot more comfortable than the floor."

"Of course." He pushed himself to his feet and immediately realized why Riza had asked for help: while the back of the couch was segmented, the actual cushion was simply one long block, nearly as tall as she was and much wider, considering the portion that lay hidden beneath the puffy, sectioned back. "This might be a bit cramped," he warned as they pulled and lifted the cushion away from the sofa.

"I don't mind. We've slept close before," she reminded him. As they settled onto the cushion, Riza draped the blankets over them before curling up against Roy's back and slipping an arm under his, hugging him closer. As he closed his eyes, Roy smiled, surprised by just how much comfort he found falling asleep in her arms.


	18. The Present

For the first time in weeks, sunlight streamed into the kitchen and Roy took a moment to savor the drastic change in the weather before stepping into the room. Riza didn't seem to have noticed him, her attention focused on something in front of her as she hunched over the counter, humming softly to herself. Shuffling across the floor as quietly as he could, he came to a halt just behind her. "Happy birthday," she said without looking up from her work.

"Damn! I thought I had you." Standing on his toes, he looked over her shoulder to see what she was working at with such intensity. A small, beautifully frosted cake sat on the counter in front of her. She held a cloth bag in her steady hands as she wrote out his name in blue icing.

With a small flourish, she finished the lettering and turned to look at him. "You almost did, but I heard the stairs creak when you came down."

"Is that supposed to be breakfast?" he asked.

"No," she said, reaching back to give his chest a gentle shove. "Your eggs are on the table and they're getting cold. This is for after breakfast."

Somewhat disappointed, Roy stalked over and sank into his chair, although he perked up when he saw how much of his plate his breakfast covered. It was a larger portion than he had seen since the weather had taken a turn for the worse. "Thanks, Riza," he said, sprinkling pepper onto the eggs before digging in.

He looked up as he chewed and watched her carry the cake over to the table. She gave him a little smile and pulled a few mismatched candles from her apron pockets before sticking them around the careful lettering. "I hope the food isn't too cold," she said, sitting across from him. "I would've woken you, but I thought you'd like to sleep in."

"No, they're fine," he assured her, mouth still full. "And you're the best."

When he had finished eating, Riza snatched his dishes away before he could carry them to the sink himself. She returned carrying a serving knife and clean dishes. Pulling a small matchbox from her apron, she began to sing. Once all six of the candles held a flame, she sat back and he waited for her to finish her song before standing and bending over the cake. "Make a wish," she said.

He hesitated a moment, unsure what to wish for. Not wanting to disappoint her, he closed his eyes and blew on the candles and pictured himself as a State Alchemist. However silly the superstition, he would need all the help he could get. When the flames were out, he sat down again and Riza cut two slices of cake. She slid the larger onto a plate and handed it to him before taking her own. "This is delicious," he said.

"Thanks." Her smile widened for a moment and she looked pleased with herself. "It was my mother's recipe."

Unsure of what to say to that, and with his mouth still full of cake, he simply nodded. As he swallowed, he wished they had milk, but judging by the open can on the counter, she had used the last of it to make the cake and obviously hadn't had time to run to town for more. "Why did you make the cake for breakfast?" he asked once he had swallowed.

She shrugged. "You mentioned that's what your aunt used to do when you were a kid, so I thought I'd do the same so you wouldn't be homesick."

He took another bite and looked at her, wishing he knew how to express how much that meant to him. Reaching across the table, he put his hand over hers, trying to convey all his gratitude and affection through the simple gesture. She smiled again in response and Roy gave her fingers an affectionate squeeze before withdrawing his hand so they could both finish eating.

"Do you want more?" Riza asked, noting his empty plate.

"Maybe after lunch," he said. "I haven't eaten so much in one sitting for months." He stood to take his plate to the sink but she stopped him.

"You shouldn't have to work today."

As he watched her wash the dishes, Roy felt a twinge of guilt. He had always had to do chores on his birthday before, and so had she. She had to do them every day of her life and once he left, she would have to do them all by herself again. Lifting the cake, he carried it to the counter. That was one thing he could do at least, and she was too busy scrubbing their plates to notice until he set it down. "You shouldn't have to work either," he insisted.

She looked up, startled. "Of course I do. We have to eat, and I can't leave dishes in the sink."

"Why not? It's winter. All the bugs are dead, and it's only for one day. I'll wash all of them for you tomorrow."

"It's kind of you to offer," she said, setting a freshly washed pan on the counter, "but I'd really rather take care of things than let them pile up."

"Fair enough." He reached for a towel and she glared at him until he inched away, eyeing her warily. "What else are we going to do today?"

She scratched her chin with her shoulder and she set a dry plate aside, taking a moment to think about his question. "Once I'm finished with this, you can open your present. It isn't wrapped but I can put it in a bag and you can pretend it is."

"That's good enough for me. You don't even have to do that if you don't want to." He shifted nervously as an idea sprang into his mind. "Hey, Riza, do you think we could get any stations from Central on the radio?"

"It doesn't work," she said flatly as she untied her apron. "Unless you know how to fix it with alchemy."

He shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

"That's a shame."

"I'll definitely fix it once I learn," he promised.

"What was it you had in mind that we needed a radio for?" she asked, looking at him over her shoulder as she hung her apron on its hook.

He shrugged and hoped his face didn't look half as red as it felt. "I was just thinking about how I had told you I could teach you how to dance."

"You mean you were actually serious about that?" she said, hopping up onto the counter beside him.

"Of course I was." Taking her hands, he pulled her onto the floor. She stumbled forward, stepping on his toes as she regained her balance.

She hopped back. "Sorry."

"It was my fault," he assured her. "You don't have to apologize."

"Sorry," she said again, smiling down at her feet. "Are you sure this is a good idea? I've already stepped on you once."

He grinned down at her, noticing the faint flush that had crept into her cheeks. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Anyone as light on their feet as you are can dance."

"Fine, I'll give it a shot," she agreed. "But I want to give you your present first." Pulling her hands away, she dashed out of the room, leaving Roy alone.

He stepped forward and leaned against the countertop to stare out the window. With the sun high in the sky, the snow had already begun melting, and even though it wouldn't be a pleasant walk, he had a feeling Riza would be going back to school on Monday. He frowned and concentrated instead on the dripping icicles that glistened in the branches of the apple tree. As he squinted against the brightness of it all, he realized that there was nothing he could do to keep her out of his thoughts. With the roads blocked, she had had nothing better to do than spend the entire, unexpected break from school at his side and he had grown so used to her presence that he even found himself turning to tell her something while he was taking a bath.

He shook his head and tried instead to guess what she might have gotten him. As stupid as it was to even consider such a thing, not least because her present was obviously something tangible, he couldn't help but hope it included a birthday kiss.

She returned a few moments later, materializing beside him as though summoned by his inappropriate thoughts and he jumped in surprise. She must have skipped the creaky stair on the way down. "Don't do that!" he chided, scowling at her. "It's like you're a ghost."

Grinning, she held out a sack. "Here you go. It's not much, but I hope you like it."

"Of course I will. It's from you." He accepted the gift and reached inside to remove a long, white scarf. "Thanks," he said, pulling her into a one-armed hug. "I needed one of these."

"I thought you did," she said brightly, hugging him back. "And this was the best one I could find."

A knot formed in his stomach as he wondered how much something so luxurious must have cost her, but he didn't want to mention it for fear that it might hurt her feelings. After a moment, he put the empty sack on the counter and wrapped the scarf around his neck. "How do I look?"

"Warm," she said.

He ruffled her hair. "Very funny."

She frowned up at him, attempting to smooth her hair. "Okay, okay, you look good. Is that better?"

"Yes, it is."

Clasping her hands in front of her, she stood up on her toes. "As dashing as it makes you look, you should probably take it off if you're going to teach me how to dance," she said.

"You mean you actually want me to?" he said, deciding not to comment on the first part. She was probably joking anyway.

"Why not? We have nothing better to do." She pivoted one foot on its toes, looking down at the floor. "Besides, I may never get another chance."

He grinned. "Another chance to dance?"

She heaved a sigh and looked up at him in exasperation. "Keep that up and I might just change my mind."

"If that's the case," he said, sweeping a bow and taking one of her hands as he looked up at her, "may I have the honor of dancing with you this fine evening, Miss Hawkeye?"

"It's ten in the morning, Mr. Mustang," she replied, fighting to keep a straight face, "but I suppose you may."

He took one of her hands in his and hesitated a moment before putting the other on her waist. He could only hope that his heart wasn't hammering quite as loud as he thought it was. Curling her fingers around his arm, she stepped closer. "It goes like this," he said, "One two three, one two three." He guided her through the steps slowly and she followed him with ease. "You're a natural."

"Watch it," she warned. "You're getting off tempo. And that was my foot."

"Sorry, I should have been paying better attention."

"And here I was thinking you were the one who was going to teach me how to dance," she teased.

Shaking his head, Roy grinned at her. "Well, we can't all be as naturally gifted as you are."

He allowed Riza to take the lead, and she swept them across the kitchen at an even quicker tempo. After a few minutes, her lips began to twitch and as he opened his mouth to ask what she found so amusing, she raised their joined hands and spun him in a tight circle.

"Hey, that's my job," he complained.

"Then you should have done it," she shot back.

In response, he twirled her carefully and her skirt fanned out around her before falling neatly into place when she returned to his arms. Her smile widened as she fell into step again, leading the two of them toward the dining room. "Having a good time?" he asked her.

She nodded enthusiastically in response, head bobbing out of tempo with their steps. Feeling bold, Roy tightened his grip on her waist and she moved closer, taking care not to step on his feet. After a few more circuits around the kitchen, they came to a halt in front of the sink. They held each other for a moment until Roy let go, backing away and bowing awkwardly.

"Thank you for the dance, Miss Hawkeye."

She curtsied. "You are most welcome, Mr. Mustang."

The two of them locked eyes as they stood upright and neither blinked for a long moment until they both started laughing. Riza sank against the counter, trying to catch her breath and Roy simply doubled over where he stood, echoing his earlier bow.

When she finally caught her breath, Riza regarded him warmly for a moment before looking away. "Thanks," she said softly. "I never would have guessed I'd get to do that."

"Why not?" he asked. He straightened his back and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder as he waited for a response.

After standing perfectly still for so long Roy began to entertain the possibility she hadn't heard him at all, Riza jerked away and pushed herself up onto the counter. Kicking her heels against the cupboard doors, she stared at her bony knees. "Look at me," she said sadly. "I'm poor and plain and stuck in this awful town. I'm not the kind of girl who gets asked dancing."

"But you'll get out of here someday," he assured her. "And you're definitely not plain. I thought you would have realized that by now."

Blushing slightly, she forced herself to meet his eyes. "Just because you think I'm pretty doesn't mean I am."

"But you are! And I'm not just saying it because of some best friend code," he added when she looked at him skeptically. "I don't even think there is a best friend code, and if there was, it shouldn't encourage dishonesty."

She laughed lightly. "I guess that can be our code at least, even if there isn't an official one."

Nodding, Roy reached out his hand and they shook on it, although Riza rolled her eyes at the gesture. "Now it is official," he said.

"And you're officially an idiot," she said affectionately, giving him a gentle shove.

He shoved her back and stared out the window, watching as several crows gathered around the apple tree. "I wonder what they're doing," he said.

"What who's doing? The birds?" she asked, craning her neck to follow his gaze. He nodded and she shrugged. "Probably worrying about food. Life's not that complicated when you're only trying to survive."

"I suppose it isn't," he agreed. While she continued to watch the crows hop through the melting snow, Roy couldn't keep his eyes from wandering to her, wondering if she was speaking from experience, or if she simply related her poverty to the struggle of the wildlife she relied upon for food. Unable to contain his curiosity, he cleared his throat nervously before saying, "Hey, Riza, you've never actually had to fend for yourself out there, have you?"

"You mean beyond hunting?" she said, turning around. "I have a few times. Sometimes storms came up suddenly and I had to find shelter until I could make it the rest of the way home." She shuddered at the memory. "Usually, they only lasted a few hours, but once, it happened just before dark, and another time, it lasted all night. I found somewhere to sleep both times, but it wasn't pleasant, and I was up most of the night anyway, hoping a bear didn't get me."

"That sounds like hell," Roy said, moving to sit beside her.

"Felt like hell," she agreed.

"You're tougher than I am. I probably would have pissed myself if I'd been trapped in the woods overnight by myself as a kid."

"And who says I didn't?"

Roy looked at her in surprise. "You mean you actually did?"

"No, I was just trying to make you feel better about yourself," she said dryly. Roy was about to mention their honesty pact when she continued, "Of course I did. I was eight and scared out of my mind in the middle of the woods during a rainstorm."

The thought of a younger Riza all alone by herself, curled up somewhere in the cold, rainy woods made his heart ache, even though years had passed since then. He had a hard time picturing what she would have looked like, and he remembered the picture on her nightstand. Of course, after her mother's death, she wouldn't have been the same rosy-cheeked girl with pigtails and bright eyes, but for some reason, he couldn't shake that particular image of her. In an attempt to distract himself, he began pulling plates from the cupboard.

"What are you doing?" Riza asked.

"I think we both need more cake," he explained, cutting into it and moving a slice onto each plate.

She clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "It'll spoil lunch."

"It's my birthday," he said pointedly, setting a plate in her lap. "And we really ought to celebrate the good weather."

"There are better ways of celebrating that than eating cake," she grumbled, but she accepted a fork and dug into her slice eagerly all the same.


	19. At the River

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been forgetting to add chapter notes and I feel really bad about that. Once again, I'd like to thank my beta, hawkeyedriza, and all of my readers!

Roy looked over the ridge warily; it would have been reckless enough to descend the steep cliff on a normal day, but with thick snow drifted across the landscape and icicles hanging from every outcropping of rock, death seemed the only outcome for anyone stupid enough to try it now. The river below worried him as well, even though Riza swore that the ice would be thick enough to hold their weight. No matter how many times he repeated her words to himself, the thought of falling through—or worse, of watching her fall through—weighed heavily in his mind.

Riza, of course, didn't seem concerned at all. In fact, she seemed positively cheerful in spite of the cold and the layer of high, thin clouds that blocked the sun. He had a feeling it was because the weather had taken a turn for the better since his birthday, and she had been able to shop and hunt and attend school regularly in the past month. She had also been thrilled to learn that her poor, sheltered city boy had never been ice skating.

"How the hell are we supposed to get down?" he asked her, heart leaping up to his throat when he realized just how close she was to the edge.

"Very carefully," she replied, spreading her arms out wider to maintain her balance. "If we keep walking along the ridge, there's a trail. This is the steepest part, but I wanted to make sure the river was actually frozen before we bothered walking all the way down."

"Will you be able to find the trail in the snow?" he asked.

"Of course I will. I'm the one who made it." She stepped back from the edge and began walking along the crest of the hill, watching her feet carefully to make certain she stayed on the right track. Roy followed her precisely, his own footsteps matching the ones she left in the snow. It was slow going, winding down switchbacks that he could scarcely pick out, relying entirely on Riza's memory and hoping the ground beneath the snow wasn't frozen enough to make them slip.

When they reached the riverbank, Riza dusted a bit of snow from the ice with her toe before stepping out onto it. "Are you sure it's safe?" Roy asked, bracing himself to reach out and grab her arm if any cracks appeared.

"It seems stable enough to me," she said as she stepped out farther. "Then again, you're heavier than I am, so we'll see what happens."

He followed her carefully, struggling to keep his balance once he passed the layer of snow along the edge of the river. "Does it really count as ice skating if we're wearing regular shoes?"

"I don't see why it shouldn't," she said, gliding past him effortlessly. "Ice is slippery whether we're balanced on blades or not and skates are expensive." She held out her hands to steady him as he slid toward her. He started to pull away when he regained his balance, but she clutched his fingers tighter. "I hope you don't mind, but I've never had anyone to do this with before now." Slowly, she began to turn, pulling him with her.

As they spun, Roy grew more confident of his own footing, trusting Riza's balance to steady him if he should slip. He relaxed slightly, enjoying the sensation of gliding across the ice with her, hardly noticing the cold air that rushed past his face. He allowed himself to forget that there was always a possibility of the ice cracking beneath their feet to send them tumbling into the frigid water below and he started to laugh as he let his head fall back, looking up at the sky that turned above them.

They stopped suddenly and Roy shook his head, trying to clear it. "Is something wrong?" he asked as Riza let go of his hands. In response, she slapped his arm and glided away as he watched her in confusion.

"What? You've never played tag before either?" she teased as she skated in a circle around him.

He tried to chase her, though his gait was far wobblier than hers and she evaded him effortlessly. "Of course I have," he said. "But I am a little surprised that you have."

"Just because I don't have friends doesn't mean I didn't join in on the playground, especially before Mother died." She laughed as he slipped, unable to retain his balance as his legs spread apart.

"Don't laugh at me." He grimaced as he forced himself back up. "Just because I'm not as graceful as you—"

"Did you hear that?" she said, skidding to a halt in front of him.

He gave her a gentle shove. "You're it," he said, shuffling backward.

She waved him off dismissively. "Be quiet. I think there's someone downstream."

Roy stopped as well, holding himself as still as he could so as not to slide into Riza. He listened for a moment but heard nothing and he was about to tell Riza she was imagining things when he heard a scream. They exchanged a brief glance before Riza took off for the shore. Roy tried to follow, but she was already bounding through the snow by the time he made his way to the edge of the ice. Once he had made his way up the bank, he tore off after her. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked, breathless. "What if they're being attacked by a bear or something?"

"Don't be an idiot. Bears hibernate," she called without looking over her shoulder. "My guess is someone skated over the edge of the waterfall."

"If the river's frozen, there can't really be a waterfall, can there?" he shot back. Under his breath, he added, "Who's the idiot now?"

"I heard that," she snapped. "And you know what I meant."

"Yeah, yeah." He caught up with her as they reached a bend in the river and she held out a hand to stop him, pointing with the other. A little boy stood in the middle of the river surrounded by thin cracks in the ice. "What are we supposed to do?" he asked Riza. If the ice had cracked under the kid's weight, there was no way it would support either of them.

"We have to help him," she insisted, taking one careful step out onto the river. To the boy, she shouted, "Come towards me!"

He shook his head. "I'm gonna fall in," he called back. "Mama said this would happen and I shoulda listened to her."

"You won't fall in," Riza assured him, testing her full weight on the ice. "But even if you do, I'll get you out."

"Riza," said Roy gently, reaching for her hand, "let me do this."

"You're too heavy," she protested. "It has to be me." She continued toward the boy, as light on her feet as possible as she inched away from the shore. New cracks appeared and the boy screamed again.

"Shh," Riza said soothingly. "Come to me and we can run for it."

The boy shook his head harder than before, covering his face with his hands. "Don't come any closer!" he shouted. "I know who you are."

Riza stiffened at the words and Roy's heart ached for her. This boy couldn't be older than six, and already he was afraid of her just because the people of this isolated town saw science as witchcraft. It was strange to Roy that the doomsday preachers he had seen on street corners in Central had always cited alchemy as the work of some sort of devil, and yet the only person in the entire town with a kind word for Riza was a religious man. True, his god didn't seem as bent on vengeance as some the ones he had heard of before, but when Roy thought of Riza's aversion to alchemy, her friendship with the priest became perfectly clear. Unlike the rest of the town, who saw only the connection between Riza and her father, that man had seen the connection between Riza and her mother.

Fuming, he walked to the edge of the river to stand just behind Riza. "Look, kid, I don't know who told you to be scared of her, but I know this girl better than anyone, and I promise you, she would never hurt another person, especially not a child."

"Of course you're not scared of her!" the boy yelled. "I know who you are too! You're another alchemist, just like her father."

"No," said Riza, taking another step forward, "you're wrong. He's nothing like my father."

"And here's what I don't get," Roy said. "She's not even an alchemist. She's never wanted to be. So why is everyone so damn afraid of her?"

"Watch your language, Roy," she snapped, turning to glare at him over her shoulder. "You're not helping my case."

Flinching at the force of her words, he supposed that was the answer to his question. Or part of it, at least. It was easy to forget that, while he saw the loving, gentle side of Riza—a girl who still cuddled with her ragged puppy doll when she had a bad day—the townspeople saw only the quiet and dangerous girl who killed most of her own food. Still, he knew full well that Riza swore when the mood struck her, and he was irritated at being chastised. "If I recall correctly, one of my first words was—"

"Save it," she hissed at him before turning her attention back to the stranded child. She took another cautious step toward him, and Roy marveled at her ability to maintain a calm disposition as more cracks appeared. The sound alone was enough to make his heart race.

"Be careful," he whispered as she broke into a run, trying to reach the boy before the ice split all the way down to the water.

When she reached the boy, she lifted him over her shoulder, ignoring his protests, and continued running toward the opposite shore. Roy held his breath as the ice groaned under the increased weight, but Riza made it across safely and no holes appeared on the surface. As he breathed out, Roy watched the boy struggle against Riza. She set him down and he raced off without so much as a thank you. Roy turned to chase him. "Don't waste your time," Riza called out. "If he turns away from the river you'll lose him and he's not worth it anyway."

She was right, of course, but he scowled as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "That ungrateful little shit probably would have died out here if it hadn't been for you," he said as she began walking back upriver.

"That's why I rescued him," she replied in a brittle voice, barely able to conceal how upset she really was, and Roy had to force himself not to run across the river to comfort her. The last thing she needed was to have to save another stupid boy, even if he, at least, would be grateful.

When they reached the stretch of ice they had skated on before, Roy rushed toward her, forgetting for a moment how slick the frozen river was. He flung his arms out, flailing them uselessly as he fell backward. Riza laughed as she raced toward him, skating to a stop at his side. "Are you alright?" she asked, extending a hand to help him up.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," he said, taking her hand and wobbling to his feet.

"I'm fine," she said. "I should be used to this by now."

Carefully, so as not to knock them both down again, he put his arms around her. "You shouldn't have to get used to it," he said, rubbing her back.

She shook her head before burying her face in his chest. "I just feel like everything I do is useless."

"Hey, now," he said gently, cupping her chin in his hand and lifting it until their eyes met. "You did a good thing, no matter what that brat thinks. And you did it without any hope of a reward. You're a good person, Riza, and you're anything but useless." He rubbed her cheek with his thumb and she gave him a reluctant smile as she placed her hand over his.

"Thanks," she whispered. For a moment, as she snuggled closer to him, he felt a surge of warmth, the frozen February landscape completely forgotten as he moved his hand to her back, holding her tighter He buried his face in her hair. "Let's go home, Roy," she said, pulling away. "I'm feeling better now."

In spite of her words, she led the way to the bank and up the hill with her back as stiff as the icicles that shimmered in crevices along the ridge. Roy scrambled along behind her: the path was too narrow for them to walk side by side and she knew it better than he did. Once they reached the top of the ridge, Roy jogged to her side and she looked over at him, the ghost of a smile still playing at her lips. She slipped her arm through his and he could feel her shivering. "Wait," he said, freeing his arm as she did, a puzzled expression on her face. He untied his scarf and wrapped it around her neck. "I don't want you catching a cold."

"But what about you?" she asked, lifting her hands to remove it.

"I'll be fine," he assured her. "I'm wearing warmer clothes than you are."

Reluctantly, she lowered her hands and continued walking, wrapping her arms around herself rather than reaching out to him again. He turned up his collar against the cold, the fabric much rougher against his skin than the scarf had been. The sun broke through the clouds as they made their way down the hill, the light almost blinding against the snow-covered countryside. Roy squinted against the reflected light, hoping that Riza knew the way well enough to get them back even if she found it as difficult to keep her eyes open as he did.

As they reached the gate, Riza turned away from the house and Roy stopped in confusion. "I thought we were going home," he said, cocking his head as he opened his eyes just enough to watch her walk away.

"I changed my mind," she said, coming to a halt as well. "There's something I need to do."

Curious, he caught up to her, trying to guess why she was heading for town. After all, she didn't have any money on her, and he doubted she wanted to see the boy she had just saved. "Where are you taking me?"

"I'm not _taking_ you anywhere. You can go home if you want. I had thought you would when we got to the gate."

"If you want me to leave, at least take my coat," he offered, slipping his arms out of the sleeves.

"Put that back on before you freeze to death," she scolded. "I don't want you to leave. I just didn't think you'd want to come."

"Well I don't know where you're going, so how would I know if I want to go there or not?" he said irritably.

"I'm going to visit Mother's grave," she said. "I was planning on waiting to take you there, but since you're already with me, you might as well tag along." Feeling as though he was intruding on something private, Roy hesitated until Riza reached back and grabbed the front of his coat to drag him along. "I'm not just going to leave you out here in the cold. You'll probably stumble off the road and get lost squinting like that."

"At least I won't have to worry about bears," he joked, earning a short chortle from Riza.

"Yeah, just run-of-the-mill hypothermia. Much safer, don't you think?" She released him and he moved to walk beside her, taking her arm once again as they picked their way down the snowy road. She tensed slightly, but when he tried to pull away, she held him tighter. He opened his eyes the rest of the way and looked over at her, confused until he realized she was fighting back shivers.

"Trust me," he said, giving his arm another tug. When she released him, he wrapped it around her shoulders instead, his free hand unbuttoning his coat so he could share at least some of the warmth with her.

When they reached the cemetery, it was quiet and the snow unbroken, as though no one in town cared enough to visit the dead. Riza withdrew from him and he hung back as they approached the grave. She knelt in the snow, and he stepped forward to read the words engraved upon it: Emily Hawkeye, 1862-1891. With a surge of guilt, Roy realized that he had never even asked her name before; he had always thought of her just as Riza's mother.

"Hey, Mom," she said softly, reaching out to brush snow off the headstone, the action as reverent as it was affectionate. "I'm sorry I haven't been to visit lately. It's been one hell of a winter." She choked on her laugh and Roy realized she was close to tears. "I brought my friend this time. I told you about Roy, remember?" She looked up at him, her eyes wet, and gestured for him to sit beside her.

He crouched down, placing a hand on Riza's shoulder as he looked at the headstone, unsure of what to do. He couldn't blame Riza for wanting to talk to her mother—how many times had he done the same? He had even yelled at his parents' graves on one occasion, cursed them for leaving him all alone with just his aunt to raise him. But he had never met Emily Hawkeye, and she wasn't his own mother, so the thought of talking to her grave made him nervous even though it was what Riza seemed to want him to do. "Hello," he said tentatively. "I wish I could have met you. If you're anything like your daughter—and I'm sure you were, the way she talks about you—then you were an amazing woman. And you'd be so proud of Riza. She saved a little boy today even though he hated her. And she knew she could have died doing it."

Riza sniffled and put her arm around Roy. "Thank you," she said, wiping her eyes with her free hand. "It means more than I can say that you'd come here with me without thinking I'm completely out of my mind. And then you talked to her too." She let out a shaky breath that was almost a sob. Or perhaps it was a laugh. He couldn't quite tell.

"I'm an orphan too, remember? Someday I'll take you to meet my parents," he promised. "And even if that wasn't the case, I know how much you miss her and I'd have to be stupid or cruel to think there was anything wrong with this."

"I just wish we could talk to her for real," she said, her voice cracking. "I wish I could believe the songs I heard the choir sing, about how the people we love are watching over us from heaven. But how can that be true when her bones are right here beneath us?" And then she was crying in earnest and Roy pulled her into his arms, twisting her so that she could sob into his chest. He had no answers for her, no idea how to comfort her when he wondered the same damn thing. After a few moments, he heard her choke out an apology through her tears.

"It's okay, Riza," he whispered soothingly, his breath ruffling her hair. He clutched her tighter as her fingers curled around his coat. "Take as long as you need. I'm here." He held her until she began to shake from the cold and from crying long after the tears had run dry.

Drawing a long, wavering breath, she looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy. "I'm ready. Let's go before we catch our deaths. I couldn't stand to lose you too."

They helped each other to their feet, but as they left the cemetery, Riza pulled away. This was something she had to do alone, he knew; she had to pull herself back together and he would be a fool to think he could do it for her. Instead, he followed in silence, the sun warming his face as they made their way back up the road.


	20. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank hawkeyedriza for betaing and all of you for reading!

"You still there, city boy?" Riza called over her shoulder, cheeks flushed from cold. How she managed to walk so effortlessly across the frozen landscape while dragging a toboggan was a mystery to Roy, whose feet stuck in the fresh layer of snow. Squinting into the sunlight as he trudged up the hill behind her, he slipped his hands from his pockets and tugged his scarf down, debating the merits of a response. He had no clever retort in mind—calling her a country girl would only make her laugh—and he didn't want to prove her point with his breathlessness. Still loping gracefully up the hill, she turned to look at him again. "Hurry up!"

"It's not like we don't have all day," he called back, scowling at her. Winded, he paused and bent forward to scoop up a handful of snow. He packed it and raced forward in spite of his burning lungs. Riza hadn't looked back again and he lobbed the snowball at her. It hit her squarely between the shoulder blades, but aside from walking faster, she ignored it. He made another and jogged up to her.

She continued walking at her usual pace, but hunched her shoulders forward to draw her coat closer to her body. "Roy Mustang, if you put that down my back, I swear by every god and devil that any person on this planet might worship, I will beat you within an inch of your life and leave you out here for the crows," she said without turning around.

He did it anyway.

She jerked away and shoved the bottom of her coat aside to untuck her shirt with the toboggan still under one arm. While she was still distracted, Roy took the chance to escape. He twisted around and headed for the road, arms pumping rapidly at his sides as his lungs drew in the sharp air. Dread crept over him as he sprinted: he should have realized sooner that the fact Riza had uttered her threat in a single breath, meaning that she was probably serious. Once he felt he had attained a safe distance, he slowed to catch his breath, but when he looked back, he was surprised to see that Riza had ditched the toboggan in favor of pursuing him. Her narrow eyes concerned him, but with her short, scrawny form, she didn't appear nearly as terrifying as she sounded. Even so, the brief glance over his shoulder cost him dearly and she made up even more ground, using the downward slope of the hill to propel herself toward him and tackle him to the ground. He skidded through the snow on his stomach, the force of impact knocking the wind out of him.

"I thought you were joking," he wheezed, trying to get out from under her as she held his waist between surprisingly strong legs. "I didn't think you'd actually—hey!" Pushing the bottom of Roy's coat aside, Riza shoved snow up his shirt and he jumped so violently he managed to throw her off balance and he took the opportunity to roll on top of her, pinning her wrists to the ground.

She struggled for a moment, still breathing hard. A knee jabbed into Roy's stomach but he ignored it, still holding her down. "Okay, you win. What are you going to do now?" she asked, realizing he didn't intend to let her up.

He blinked at her, somewhat taken aback at her tone and the way she shifted beneath him again. "Oh, I can think of a few things I'd _like_ to do," he teased.

"Are you flirting with me, Roy Mustang?" she asked with a smirk, no longer fighting to get away. If anything, she looked rather pleased with this turn of events.

Flustered and certain that his face couldn't possibly get any redder, Roy looked away. "I might be," he admitted, moving to sit in the snow beside her.

"That's not a very straightforward answer," she complained, sitting as well. She hugged her legs to her chest and stared at him, as though waiting for a more satisfying response.

He tugged his scarf back up to hide his flushed cheeks, even though she had already seen them. "I'll get back to you on that when I have one," he said. Averting his eyes from her curious face, he tried to collect his thoughts. He had known for ages how he felt about her beyond the close friendship they shared—and whenever his thoughts had strayed into dangerous territory, he had fought to keep them in line. But in all that time, it had never even occurred to him beyond wishful thinking that she might have developed feelings for him as well, and now that the possibility was before him, he wasn't sure how to react to it. Surely a girl who feared soldiers deserved better than a boy who hoped to become one, but he had never intended to fall for her either.

When he dared meet her eyes again, there were snowflakes in her lashes. She blinked them away as she stood and held out her hand to pull Roy up as well. "Is something wrong?" she asked as they walked back up the hill to retrieve the toboggan.

He shrugged and looked over at her, the snow in her disheveled hair tempting him to brush it away, but as he raised his hand, he decided against it. Only a few moments ago, such an action would have felt as natural as fixing his own hair and he would have done it without hesitation. But now, so soon after telling her that he didn't want to talk about it, he could neither touch her nor tell her the truth he had withheld. Instead, he watched as she stooped to pick up the toboggan and notice a run in her stockings that started just below her knee and continued up past the hem of her skirt. He considered offering to repair it, but had no desire to let her know he had been looking at her legs.

"What now?" he asked, eyes fixed on the back of her head as she straightened.

"Let's go back," she said, turning to face him again. "We need to put on dry clothes."

"Yeah," he agreed. She shivered slightly and he stepped forward to wrap his scarf around her neck. "Here, let me carry that." He held out his hands for the toboggan.

"No, I've got it," she insisted. Roy could have kicked himself. After teasing him for walking so slowly, why would she let him carry anything? She didn't care about chivalry, only about what was practical and there was absolutely nothing practical about letting him carry something so unwieldy down a slippery hill.

They headed back toward the road at a much slower pace than before, although it seemed more out of concern than fatigue on Riza's part. As they walked, she kept glancing at him as though she thought something was wrong an uncomfortable silence fell between them. _I should have seen this coming,_ he realized, kicking at the snow. _What else could she have meant at New Year's? She was probably hoping that I really would kiss her and then she lied to cover it up when I said I didn't._ With a sigh, he looked over at her. This far from the house, he could almost forget that they weren't just two friends enjoying a snowy Sunday afternoon together. And for once, he decided to let that thought run free.

A thousand images of Riza flooded his mind as he did: hanging upside down in a tree, laughing at him, looking up at the stars, skinning a deer, beating him at chess, leading as they waltzed around the kitchen, and half-asleep curled up beside him. A knot formed in his stomach as he remembered all the times she had snuck into his bed or convinced him that they should make a nest in front of the fire. Had that been as innocent as he had assumed? And not just from her perspective: had he subconsciously been hoping she would try to initiate something more? He felt sick with nerves just thinking about it. He had thought his offers were innocent, and he hoped more than anything that they truly had been. Motivation, it seemed, was difficult to discern through hindsight.

They reached the road and he wondered if he should say something to her, but he wasn't sure how to go about it. They were nearly home and he couldn't reign in his thoughts enough to simply tell her he was sorry for the whole situation. _She's_ sixteen _,_ he told himself. _And she'll be seventeen soon enough. And then eighteen and nineteen and twenty and someone else is bound to notice how wonderful she is before too long._ Scowling, he redoubled his efforts, mumbling over and over under his breath, "She's your Master's daughter."

"Are you talking to me?" Riza asked, looking over at him again.

"I was actually talking to myself," he said, feeling foolish. She gave him an odd look but said nothing else. He was losing his mind—surely that was the source of his problems. Even so, he couldn't help but think that maybe there was nothing wrong with him at all. She was his best friend, and the thought of losing her pained him more than anything else, so it was only natural to feel jealous at the thought of another man wanting to date her. After all, if she did date someone else, that person could refuse to let the two of them spend time together. But that was unthinkable. She wasn't the kind of person to give up on a friendship like that. If anything, she would tell the boyfriend to shove off.

With her teeth, she removed one glove and tucked it under her arm. "Are you sure you're alright?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he snapped. "You're the one trying to give yourself frostbite."

"I was just going to see if you had a fever," she explained, reaching up to touch his forehead.

He shoved her hand away. "It's not going to do any good to check out here. Of course my head's going to be warmer than your fingers. And I'm not sick anyway. I'm just confused."

"What are you confused about?"

"Why you think something's wrong," he lied. "Honestly, if the cold's getting to anyone, it's you."

"And whose fault is that? You're a terrible liar, Roy," she grumbled. "If you don't want to tell me the truth, then just say that."

He flinched at her words but he couldn't blame her for being upset. After all, he couldn't imagine feeling too great himself if she had lied to him. "I'm sorry, Riza. It's not that I'm trying to keep anything from you, it's just that I don't know how to talk about it yet."

"I understand," she said, although she still sounded hurt.

He hated himself for keeping secrets from her and the nagging memory of their honesty pact didn't help. But how could he be so selfish as to tell her the truth? Even if she felt the same about him, her father would never approve and it wouldn't be fair to make her choose between them. And if he was wrong—if she hadn't been flirting with him—well, that would be even worse. There was no way she would be comfortable living with someone who saw her romantically, even though he would never dream of initiating anything without her consent. _I won't tell her until I'm certain she feels the same. Even if I lose her to some other man, it would be better than hurting her._

"Are you going to come in?" she asked. "Or are you going to stay out there in the cold?"

He didn't even remember walking into the yard. "Sorry," he said as he stepped past her into the entry hall. It was hardly warmer inside than out. As he shut the door, he heard Riza's feet on the stairs. He hung his coat and turned to head up as well. The cold, wet shirt pressed against his stomach distracted him from the knots that had formed there and he was almost reluctant to change into something warm and dry. As he tugged a clean shirt over his head, he heard a knock. "Come in," he called, reaching for a sweater that lay crumpled on the bed.

Riza opened the door and stepped in, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and her tights clutched in one hand. "I think these ripped when you pinned me," she said, holding them out to him as she approached.

"Maybe they ripped when you tackled me," he said, crossing his arms. "Either way, I'm not mending them until you say the magic word."

"Alright, then," she said, cocking her head innocently. "Would you _please_ fix these for me, Roy?"

He rolled his eyes and snatched the torn garment from her. "Of course I will, since you asked so nicely. The puppy dog eyes were a nice touch but completely unnecessary." Removing a piece of chalk from his pocket, he strode to the desk and sketched a transmutation circle on it. He adjusted the tights, positioning the run in the center of the circle, and closed his eyes in concentration. The blue light that appeared as he placed his hands on the edge of the circle stained the insides of his eyelids for a moment before vanishing. He opened his eyes. "Here you go," he said, handing the mended stockings to her.

"Well done," she said, sticking her hand up the previously damaged side and holding it up to the light. "They look exactly like they did before."

"Wasn't that the point?" he muttered, feeling somewhat exasperated even though he knew she was referring to the improvements he had made over the past months.

"Thank you." She freed her arm and gave him a quick hug before sitting on his bed and bending forward. She stretched out one foot and Roy turned away to give her a bit of privacy. His stomach did a few flips as he reminded himself not to think about her, or the fact that she hadn't seemed to mind that he was watching when she started pulling her tights on.

"I'm going to start a fire," he announced without looking at her.

"Great. I'll be down in a minute," she said.

He grunted a goodbye and stalked out of the room. Downstairs, he tossed a few logs and a bit of kindling into the fireplace before striking a match and adding that to the mix as well, the flame spreading instantly to the dry grass. Satisfied, he crossed the room and spread out on the couch, staring into the flames so intently he didn't even notice that Riza had joined him until she shoved his legs onto the floor. "Hey!" he said, giving her a playful nudge as she sat down beside him.

"You need to share," she scolded. "Would you have preferred it if I'd sat on you?"

In all honesty, he rather liked the idea, but he would never admit it, nor could he dwell on it. Instead, he shook his head and grinned at her. She scooted to the opposite edge of the sofa and tucked her legs up, stretching her skirt over her knees before tossing a pillow at him. "I brought a blanket for you, but I think I'll keep it for myself." She picked it up and hugged it protectively with one arm. "What? No snappy comebacks?" she added when he remained silent.

"Give me a minute to think about it," he said, tearing his eyes away from her and forcing himself to concentrate on the fire. It wouldn't do any good to stare. That would give him away faster than his mouth would, and even if she didn't notice, the last thing he needed to think about was the way she played with the hem of her skirt. He wondered if she did it out of anxiety or restlessness. _Pull yourself together,_ he told himself, trying to shake the thought from his head. Just because he thought her habits were cute didn't mean he had to obsess over them.

"You don't have to sulk. I'll let you have it," she said, reaching over to pat his arm. The gesture made him jump. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine. I just wasn't expecting you to touch me," he mumbled, looking down at his hands as she set the blanket in his lap.

She tucked her knees up to her chin, not bothering to adjust her skirt. "What's gotten into you today? You aren't angry with me, are you?" she said warily, hugging her legs to her chest and leaning back as though she wanted to disappear into the sofa.

"Of course not," he said gently. With the newfound nervousness he felt at being so close to her, he didn't dare hug her, even though he longed to. He was certain that, if he did, everything he had kept in for the past few months would spill out and he would never be able to repair the friendship he treasured more than anything. "I don't think I could ever be mad at you."

She regarded him suspiciously, but her gaze softened when she saw the truth of the statement in his face. "Then I don't suppose you'd mind if I did this," she said and stretched her legs out, resting her feet in his lap.

After a few moments of watching her toes curl as she tried to adjust the seam of her tights, Roy wondered if it would be rude to push her away. He shifted uncomfortably and leaned against the armrest. Looking over at Riza again, he noticed an impish grin had spread across her face and all his previous doubts fled. She was _definitely_ flirting with him.

Spurred on by her advances, he placed a hand on her ankle and rubbed it gently, careful not to tear the fabric of her tights again. She shifted slightly as he caressed her and he withdrew his hand. "Don't stop," she said. "I was only trying to get more comfortable." With a contented sigh, she snuggled into her blanket and closed her eyes.

Roy watched her uncertainly. The firelight cast a warm glow across her face and he wished he could reach out and touch it. But his hand already wavered above her legs and he knew that stroking her cheek was far too intimate a gesture, whether or not she wanted him to do so. Cautiously, he resumed rubbing her ankle and her smile softened into something much sweeter. He considered asking what her true feelings were towards him, but as he felt her relax under his fingers, he realized that there were some things that didn't need to be said.


	21. Distractions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to hawkeyedriza for betaing and the rest of you for reading!

A thin layer of dust clung to the pages on the book Hawkeye slid across the table and Roy stifled a sneeze. He examined the faded, peeling cover for a moment before opening it, careful not to tear the brittle pages. "You need to focus," said Hawkeye. "Your work is getting sloppy."

"Sir?" Roy looked up in surprise. It was a fair judgment, he supposed, although he had hoped his Master wouldn't notice. He had spent the past two weeks studying with Riza as usual, but it had been much harder to keep his attention on his notes and Hawkeye's old journals now that he had reason to believe she returned his feelings. When he wasn't watching her, he was thinking about her in ways he had never dared to before. Wondering how she would react if he kissed her, whether her lips would be as soft against his as they looked when she tapped her pen against them.

"Are you listening to me, Mustang?" Hawkeye scolded as he placed a hand across the open pages of the book.

Roy looked up sheepishly, hoping his thoughts weren't written across his face. "Sorry, I guess I lost my focus again."

The man across the table clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Has the weather gotten to you?"

"Yes, sir," Roy lied. It was better than admitting that Riza had.

"Then you had best ignore whatever spring fever is rattling around in your head if you intend to carry on with your studies."

"Yes, Master." The hints about Hawkeye's secret research had become more frequent since the beginning of the year, as if in an attempt to hold it over Roy's head. Roy found it infuriating: he had managed to stick around this long—much longer, Riza had informed him, than any apprentice her father had taken in the past—and yet the man refused to allow more than the occasional concession that his work was anything more than adequate.

Hawkeye withdrew his hand and Roy's face grew hot as he scanned the title page of the familiar book: it was an older version of one he had read in school. _An Introduction to Organic Chemistry._ Hawkeye hadn't been satisfied with his latest transmutations at all, but Roy could hardly blame him. After all, the twisted pieces of bark looked more like something pulled from a bird's nest than the result of a successful transmutation. He hadn't even bothered showing them to Riza, because he knew she never would have guessed that one was supposed to be a rook to replace the one he had broken three days before when he had knocked it off the table by accident. He had weighed the options carefully, but in the end, his desire to impress her was stronger than his need to show her that he had at least tried to make amends.

Hawkeye flicked the bark across the table one piece at a time. "I expect this to be better next week. Understood?"

"Understood," Roy said. He scooped up the bark and pocketed it before tucking the book under his arm.

"And tell Riza not to bring lunch if she intends to make more of that dreadful stew."

"Yes, sir." He stood and went to the door, eager to get away. In truth, he was as sick of stew as his master, but at least it was better than nothing. And with Riza cooking, the food was bearable, even if it was monotonous and made from parts of deer that he himself would not have labelled as edible.

As he trudged downstairs to the smell of simmering mincemeat, he decided to accompany Riza to school in the morning so he could stop at the post office. The letter he had sent Christmas asking to send money from his bank account must have reached Central, but he hadn't gotten a response yet. He imagined the delight on her face at seeing the fresh food he planned to buy once he could afford it. Still grinning at the thought, he stepped into the kitchen.

"How was it?" Riza asked without looking up from the stove.

He pulled up a chair, wincing as the legs scraped loudly across the floor. "Terrible."

At that, Riza turned around, concern spreading across her face. "He didn't ask you to leave, did he?"

"Not yet. Terrible's still a step up from irredeemable." He set the book on the table before flipping it open.

"I'm glad. I don't want you to go." She gave him a sad smile before turning away to remove bowls from the cupboard. With a surge of guilt, he wondered if she was hinting at his inevitable departure. With spring in the air for the first time, the end of summer seemed unbearably close. At least he found a little comfort in the knowledge that she wanted to stay as much as he did.

"You only need two bowls. Your father said he doesn't want stew."

She returned one of the bowls and shrugged. "More for us, I suppose." She ladled stew into the remaining bowls then dropped a spoon in each. Her skirt swished around her legs as she strode to the table and Roy forced himself to look back at the book. "Careful," said Riza, setting one bowl in front of him.

He looked up at her, trying to mask his embarrassment with an expression of confusion until he realized she meant to warn him not to spill on the book. He closed it and set it on the floor beneath his chair, feeling sheepish and a little guilty even though she hadn't noticed the way he looked at her. "Thanks for lunch."

"You should probably wait until you've tasted it before thanking me," she said, grimacing at her own first spoonful.

Roy laughed. "Let me rephrase that: thanks for cooking so I didn't have to handle this stuff when it was raw."

"If that's what you're thanking me for, gratitude might not be enough." She wrinkled her nose. "If you think it's foul now…"

"Then I can only imagine what it was like before you started your miracle work," he finished.

"You're certainly in a good mood today," she observed, letting her spoon clatter against the bowl as she reached for a glass of water.

Roy noticed his own glass for the first time and he drained it eagerly, trying to wash away the texture of whatever Riza had ground up for meat. "Why shouldn't I be?" he said, coughing slightly as he swallowed wrong. "The sun is shining, we might have fresh food tomorrow, and I get to spend the rest of the day with you."

"If you're looking forward to it that much, then we ought to do something special," she suggested.

"Like what?" he asked, looking up from his stew.

"There's something I want to show you," she said and she refused to reveal any more about it. When Roy pressed her as they washed the dishes, she scowled and pointed a soapy ladle at him. "I told you it's a surprise."

"Okay, okay. Sheesh." He dried the dishes without another word, hoping he hadn't annoyed her too much. Christmas always used to scold him when he nagged her about birthday presents, but Riza's silence was a far worse punishment. He stole glances at her occasionally, but she kept her face expressionless, intent on scrubbing away the last bits of stew from their bowls. If she could hide her thoughts from him with such apparent ease, then surely she could hide them from her father, and once again the idea of asking her how she really felt about him forced its way to the front of his mind. But if he wanted her to open up to him, he needed to swallow his pride.

"I'm sorry," he said as he accompanied her out into the yard. He had thought up half a dozen apologies while she rinsed and dried her hands, but in the end, the simplest had seemed the best.

She gave him a warm smile and placed a hand on his arm. "It's fine," she said. "You're still my best friend, no matter how obnoxious you are."

"So you think I'm obnoxious, do you?" He pulled his arm away and wrapped it around her shoulders, grinning as she stumbled into him.

Slipping an arm around his waist, she looked up at him. "Well, it's true. Especially when you smirk like that."

"Like what?" he said innocently, pulling her closer. It would be so easy to lean down and peck the top of her head, so easy to tell her how pretty she was or how much she meant to him. _She's your Master's daughter. Keep your hands off her._ But they were already holding each other, and the contact came naturally, just as it had for months. He wasn't even the slightest bit nervous, the way he had been when he had first assumed she was flirting. If being obnoxious wasn't enough to change her mind, surely a little nudge toward romance wouldn't damage their relationship and Hawkeye never had to find out. "Hey, Riza, can I—?"

"We're here," she announced as though she hadn't heard him. With her free hand, she pointed up and he saw a treehouse nestled in the branches above them.

"Impressive," he said. After all the hours he had spent helping Riza chop wood for a bridge from the log they had once tried to haul across the river, he had nothing but respect for whoever had built this. It had been months since they finished hammering that bridge together and he still felt phantom splinters in his fingers.

"My father made this," she explained. "With alchemy."

Roy felt somewhat disgruntled at the revelation. Was she trying to rub it in that he was terrible at transmuting wood? Or had his current endeavor simply reminded her of a happy memory? "And I can't even make a rook," he muttered.

"A rook?" she asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

"I broke one of yours and I wanted to apologize," he said. She already knew he was a failure; he might as well own up to it. He pulled the knotted piece from his pocket and pressed it into her hand.

Riza curled her fingers around it protectively. "Thank you, Roy," she said. "Even if it isn't perfect, it was a sweet thought."

"If I had been thinking, I would have just transmuted the original back together," he said, but he was pleased all the same.

"You still can. The pieces are in my room."

"Later," he said. "I'm still curious about this." He gestured up at the treehouse. Aside from admiring his master's handiwork, he was also eager to have a private place to visit with Riza. This close to the yard, not even a stray soldier would come near enough to overhear their conversations.

She held out her hand, opening her fingers. "Would you mind putting this in your pocket for now? I don't have any."

"Sure." He took it carefully from her palm and tucked it away.

"Thanks." She hauled herself onto the ladder and looked down at him over her shoulder once her feet were higher than his head. "You coming?"

He nodded. "Yeah." Taking care to avert his eyes, he climbed up after her. With his gaze locked onto the trunk in front of him, he didn't notice he had reached the top until his head poked up through the trapdoor. Two large cushions took up most of the space and Riza had settled onto one of them, legs tucked up beside her and shoes half-off. Roy dragged himself the rest of the way up and sat on the empty cushion as she closed the door behind him.

"What do you think?" she asked.

He leaned back against the wall and settled deeper into the cushion, hands resting in his lap as he stretched out his legs. "I like it. It's cozy."

"I should have brought you here sooner. It's just—" She stopped short and scooted closer to him. He moved as well, giving her enough space to sit comfortably instead of awkwardly spanning the gap between the two cushions.

"Just what?" he asked as she leaned her head against his shoulder. A bird sang from a nearby branch as they nestled together and Roy looked down at Riza's fingers, watching as they tapped restlessly against her thigh. She clearly had something on her mind as well and her reluctance to finish her last sentence worried him. If she was closing herself off, there was no way she would voice her feelings for him, not to mention the fact that she was upset by whatever it was she couldn't say.

"It's not important," she said softly.

"If it matters to you, then it is," he insisted. "But if you don't want to tell me, that's fine."

She shifted uncomfortably and looked up at him with uncertain eyes. "The two of us alone up here—if my father found out…But I guess it's no worse than spending the night in your room."

An awkward silence fell between them and Roy squeezed his arms against his sides. Maybe this wasn't the best time to bring it up, but he had to know before he lost his nerve completely. "About that—can I ask you something, Riza?"

Her fingers grew still as she nodded. "Of course."

The words felt stuck inside him and he struggled to pry them out as he found his tongue. "Do you like me?" he asked, each syllable threatening to choke him. "And not just as a friend."

She pulled away to get a better view of him, brown eyes narrowing as they scrutinized his face. "Why do you want to know?"

"If you answer, I'll tell you," he said, feeling guilty about being so evasive. But he had asked first, and damned if he was going to admit that he liked her before he knew that she felt the same.

"What are we, children?" she muttered, and Roy had to bite his tongue to keep from pointing out that they were sitting in a treehouse. "If I tell you, do you promise things won't change between us? Will we still be best friends and have fun together like in the past?"

"Of course," he said, his heart sinking. Of course she only saw him as a friend; he had been stupid to think otherwise. And here he was, ruining everything by bringing up an uncomfortable subject and displaying his feelings for her so transparently without making it equally obvious that he treasured their friendship more than anything.

She looked down at her knees and curled her fingers around the hem of her skirt. "I do," she whispered.

"I figured as mu—wait, what was that?"

"I like you a lot," she admitted, finally meeting his eyes again.

Wordlessly, he turned and pulled her into his arms. "I like you too," he said and clutched her tighter to his chest until he could feel her heart racing as fast as his own. "And I was afraid that's why you were nervous about bringing me here."

"It didn't even cross my mind," she admitted, returning the embrace. "I hadn't dared hope you did. But now that I know the truth, I don't intend to let him find out."

"Neither do I. Can you imagine what he'd do to me if he knew the real reason I've been so distracted?" He felt her shudder in his arms, apparently doing just that. At least, if it came down to a punishment, he trusted that Hawkeye wouldn't do anything to Riza. He didn't care what the man did to him as long as she didn't have to pay for his lack of diligence. It wasn't as if she had asked for him to live with her, and Hawkeye himself had advocated for their friendship.

"How long have you liked me?" she asked in an attempt to steer the conversation in a lighter direction. Her warm breath on his neck made something stir within him and he fisted his hands in the fabric of her dress to steady himself. Entertaining the thoughts that came with the sensation would only make things worse.

"Since New Year's," he said when he had enough control over himself to speak again. "And I tried not to let myself think about it until last week, but I could have sworn you were flirting with me and—"

"It took you long enough to figure it out," she teased, moving one hand tentatively to brush his cheek with her thumb. "Although I suppose I'm the slow one here."

He placed one hand over hers, pressing it to his face. "How long have you liked me?"

"It may have been longer, but I realized that I did the day we went to Mother's grave," she admitted, lowering her gaze in embarrassment. "You talked to her instead of thinking I was stupid for doing the same. And I realized that you understand me better than anyone else ever will." Sitting up on her knees, she wrapped her arms around him so tightly he could hardly breathe.

"So what now?" he asked when she let him go.

"What do you mean?"

He looked at her and his heart caught in his throat when he saw the concern in her eyes. "Where can this go?" he said sadly, one hand playing with her hair. "Your father will be angry enough when he finds out I've applied to the academy. And he'll be furious if he finds out I want more than friendship from his daughter, regardless of which he learns about first. So where does that leave us?"

"The same place as before, I suppose," she said, scrunching her nose.

He shook his head. "Will it really be the same?" he asked. "Now that we both know how we feel, are we just going to go back to acting like we don't?"

"Of course not. But we'll still be friends like you promised."

"Riza, that's not—I mean—what I was trying to say was I had hoped you wanted to be my girlfriend," he said with a sinking heart. How could he blame her if she didn't? After all, he'd be gone in a few short months, and no matter how often he wrote, it wouldn't be the same. Even as friends, they had maintained almost constant contact. How much harder would it be to miss her kisses as well as her hugs?

"I never said I didn't," she said. "What I don't want is for you to get into trouble because of me."

"You're worth all the trouble in the world."

Her eyes widened in surprise. She smiled slightly, tilting her head until her hair caught the sunlight. "So are you," she said. "That's why I don't want to risk losing you. If Father sent you away early, I'd never be able to forgive myself. Please, Roy, can we just be friends for now?"

"Of course we can," he said. "I get it." He didn't want to lose her either. As she pulled away from the embrace and slipped off his lap, her smile faded, and her eyes seemed far away. The melancholy in her face made his heart ache. There had to be something he could do to cheer her up, but nothing came to mind; he could only watch helplessly as she moved back to the other cushion, wrapping her arms around herself. The air in the treehouse was unbearably stuffy in the silence that spread between them. Flinging the trapdoor open, he watched for her reaction, but she didn't even seem to notice, sealed off as she was in her own thoughts as she was. With fresh air cooling his face, he started to feel a little better. After all, she liked him back. And that was a start.


	22. Rumors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since everyone's having a bit of a Royai night, here's an early update! Happy Monday and thanks to hawkeyedriza for betaing.

Roy woke with his pillow clutched against his chest and a kink in his neck. Riza might not have kissed him, but the mischievous glance over her shoulder as she retired to her room had left him wondering. And dreaming. The afternoon they had spent in the treehouse seemed unreal, as though it were also part of that dreamscape, with brighter colors and words and actions he certainly could not have experienced less than a day before. He rolled out of bed, eager to verify that it had not, in fact, been a dream. After dressing quickly, he rushed down to the kitchen to find it empty. "Riza?" he said tentatively, poking his head through the dining room doorway. Only the silent, high backed chairs waited in there and he turned back to the kitchen to see a sleepy figure stumble into the room. "There you are."

"Here I am," she agreed with a yawn. "Were you looking for me?"

"Yeah." He leaned against the doorframe and gave her a lopsided smile, wondering if she found his rumpled hair attractive. Hers had a certain charm to it: after all, he could almost envision himself as the cause. "Did you have trouble sleeping last night?" he asked.

She shrugged. "No more than usual. It was much harder getting up." Straightening her nightgown, she walked over to him.

Wrapping his arms around Riza, he pulled her into an embrace he hoped was more friendly than romantic. "You should get ready for school. I'll make breakfast."

She grinned. "I know. I can't exactly go looking like this." She plucked at the thin fabric of her nightgown and stepped out of his arms. "Thanks for offering to make breakfast."

As she left the room, Roy removed the container of leftover stew from the icebox and carried it to the stove. It had congealed, disproving his theory that nothing in the world could be less appetizing than the freshly cooked version. His nose wrinkled involuntarily as he scraped the contents into a pot. He tossed the container into the sink and turned the stove on. At least it was better than going hungry. That was something he hoped never to experience again, and it pained him to know that Riza would. _I'll be able to send money from the academy. And maybe Hawkeye will find a new apprentice._

The thought struck him like a blow to the gut and he clutched the counter to steady himself. Riza rarely spoke of her father's past apprentices, but he remembered what she had said about the one before him, could still hear the slight waver in her voice, apparent even before he knew her. What if his replacement was as cruel as his predecessor? The idea of Riza sharing the house with some other guy was hard enough to swallow without having to worry about someone who might go beyond _seeming_ cruel. Roy knew better than most about the unscrupulous men out there—men who wouldn't care how young she was, only that she was small with no escape.

"Are you alright?" Riza's soft voice startled him from his thoughts and he turned to see her standing behind him, one hand outstretched. He took it, clung to it.

"I'm worried about you," he said, gripping her fingers tighter. "When I leave, you—"

"I'll be fine. A little lonely, perhaps, but it won't be like before." She gave him a reassuring smile, although he could sense a bit of exasperation behind it, and he wondered if she was beginning to find his concern tiresome.

He shook his head. "That's not what I meant. What if your father finds another apprentice? What if he tries to hurt you?"

"I don't think that will happen." She tugged her hand away and clasped it with the other, rocking forward to stand on her toes. "Father's very serious about you, and even if you leave with a fight, I'll do everything I can to repair the damage."

"Thanks," he said, his heart feeling a little lighter. In an attempt to steer the conversation away from his departure, he added, "You look nice today."

"Just nice?" she teased, sinking flat onto her feet. She wore a prim, black skirt that fell just to her knees and a long sleeve white blouse that showed every curve. Roy thought she was absolutely stunning.

"Beautiful, nice—take your pick," he said. "Although I'd hate for you to spill on your clothes." He reached behind him, his hand searching the countertop for a towel. When he found one, he tossed it to her.

She tucked it into her open collar. "I don't think this looks very ladylike."

"I'm not telling you to wear it to school or anything."

Laughing, she adjusted her makeshift apron. "You'd like it if I did, wouldn't you? Since it would keep all the other boys away."

"If the other boys around here weren't so stupid," he said, turning to remove bowls from the cupboard, "it would take a lot more than that to keep them away from you."

"I'm glad they're stupid, then." She moved past him to fill glasses at the sink. "Because I've seen the way they act when girls refuse them. It's like they become deaf as soon as they hear the word no."

Roy bristled, his thoughts turning back to potential apprentices as well as men he had encountered far too often in the past. He had received his first black eye from a man like that: some old bastard who was drunk off his ass and refused to believe that one of the girls didn't owe him anything. She had been eighteen then, and she had run away from home only to find that the world was every bit as unforgiving as her family. And Roy, determined to prove that her new family cared about her, had stepped in. He only wished he could do the same for Riza, but she was unreachable behind she school's walls, and she would be just as unreachable here once he returned to Central.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He jumped in surprise and she stepped back. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine," he said, wishing he could have kept better control of himself. She turned to serve breakfast and he wondered if she had given up on her question. He hoped she had. It was better that she didn't know he was still worrying about her. They went to the table and Roy stirred his stew, waiting for it to cool so he could gulp it down quickly to avoid the taste.

After several minutes, Riza set her own spoon aside and wiped her mouth. Crossing her arms, she looked at Roy intently. "You know, you can tell me anything. I hate seeing you like this."

"Like what?" he asked innocently, avoiding her eyes.

"Hurting." She pushed her chair away from the table and stood. As he stared down at his bowl, Roy heard her walk over to him and he looked up as she put her arms around his neck

He leaned into her, soaking in the comfort of her embrace. "This helps," he murmured.

"I'm glad." She hugged him tighter to her chest and he inhaled sharply, breathing in the faint scent of her soap. For a moment, he felt like a kid again, as safe in Riza's arms as he had been in Christmas's. As he burrowed his face into her shirt, his worries seemed to melt away. Of course she would be fine without him. But where would he be without her? Somehow, this girl had worked her way into his heart so thoroughly that it seemed she had always been there.

"Would you like me to walk you to school today?" he offered, pulling away to look up at her face, at the concern in those brown eyes.

A smile spread across her face. "Of course."

After breakfast, Roy changed quickly into the clothes he had worn the day before and combed through his hair with his fingers as he descended the stairs. She was waiting for him by the door, book bag slung across her body and a lavender cardigan on her shoulders. They left the house and she looked back over her shoulder at the attic windows before taking Roy's hand. "I thought you said we couldn't do this," he said, although he had no intention of letting go first.

"You've held my hand before."

"As a friend," he protested.

"Am I not still your friend?"

He shook his head in exasperation. "Of course you are. I just thought that, after yesterday, you wouldn't want to."

With a sigh, she stopped walking and looked up at him as though scanning his face for something he couldn't determine. "It's going to be harder dealing with the rumors now," she explained. "It was annoying when you were just my friend, painful when I realized I liked you, and it's going to be impossible now that I know they could be true."

"Riza…" He reached up to touch her face but hesitated, hand in midair until she grabbed it and pressed it to her cheek. As much as he wanted to, he knew it would be wrong to tell her it wasn't too late to change her mind. "You're going to be late," he warned instead, pulling his hand away and cramming it into his pocket.

They resumed walking at a much quicker pace, Riza's gait as stiff as a soldier's march. Her fingers tightened around his and he smiled reassuringly. She didn't notice; it was as if she couldn't see him at all as she looked out over the hills. The first wildflowers were starting to bloom now that the snow had melted for good, and the closer they got to town, the more colorful the landscape became. They passed the church and Riza released his hand. He stretched his fingers to let the blood back into them and noticed a familiar scent. The lilac bushes just outside the doors were in bloom and he dashed over to pluck an inflorescence of the small purple blossoms.

Looking puzzled, Riza stopped to watch him as he held out the flowers. "For luck."

She held the flowers up to her nose and inhaled deeply. "Thank you," she said. "But I thought they meant something else."

As she looked at him over the petals, he froze. "How'd you know about that?"

"My mother taught me. Father always used to give her flowers and she told me what they meant. And once, she told me that the first time he kissed her, he gave her lilacs because they represent falling in love."

Roy tugged at his collar nervously. "I just thought they smelled nice," he said weakly. In truth, he hadn't given a single thought to the code he had once copied into his own notes.

Riza looked down. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that."

"No, it's fine. I should have thought before I picked them." Feeling sheepish, he shoved his hands into his pockets and continued walking. At the very least, he could use this in the future if he was too scared to tell her that he had fallen in love. _I wonder how long lilacs bloom,_ he thought, trying to recall the page in that old book of perennials _._ Perhaps it didn't matter. He had no way of knowing when he'd see her again after he left for the academy, and no matter what he might feel, it wouldn't be right to confess it to her before he did. He had said too much as it was.

When they reached the school, Roy stopped to watch her climb the steps. She turned to wave goodbye for a moment and vanished into the building. Before anyone had a chance to speak to him, he hunched his shoulders and turned away. The streets were filled with people, as though the past two weeks of warm weather had breathed life into the village. It made him homesick. In Central, he was nobody, but here it was all he could do to keep his head down long enough to duck into the library. He avoided the librarian's eyes as he slunk past the counter, but he could feel her disapproval burning into his back.

The rows of dusty books comforted him and he brushed his fingers gently over the spines as he scanned the titles. As soon as he found the one he was looking for, he removed it from the shelf and carried it to one of the old chairs by the window. He could just make out the hands of the city hall's clock as he settled down to read. A cloud of dust rose from the cushion and he struggled not to sneeze. Nose burning, he opened the book and started reading, occasionally stealing glances at the clock. Maybe it was stupid to do his supplemental reading here rather than checking the books out, but he wasn't entirely sure the skeptical woman behind the counter would allow an alchemist to take so much as a copy of yesterday's paper outside the walls.

After several chapters, he looked up to check the time, blinking to make sure he had read the hands correctly. Half past eleven. He made a mental note of the page number and returned the book to its shelf before leaving the library and racing down the street to a café. Breathless, he ordered two sandwiches and took them to the school where Riza was waiting by the fence. She smiled when she saw him and he grinned back, holding up the bag with their lunch. Crouching down, he pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket and drew a small circle beneath the fence. He passed one of the sandwiches through the gap he transmuted. Riza gave a small whimper of pleasure as she removed the wrapping. "There's _cheese_ on this," she said. "Do you know how long it's been since I've had cheese?"

Roy smiled at his friend as she sank to the ground. "A very long time?" he guessed, sitting with his back against hers. He felt her nod in response. As he bit into his own sandwich, he thought that Riza could have made it better, but he didn't say so; she seemed to like hers well enough. He looked at her over his shoulder as she wolfed down her lunch, knees drawn up to her chest.

"I have something for you too," she said, setting the empty wrapper in her lap and adjusting her skirt. "It's not much, but—here." She removed a small, white flower from behind her ear and held it out through the fence.

Roy took it and put it behind his own ear, which made Riza giggle. "Thanks," he said. "What kind is it?"

"A pear blossom."

He thought for a moment, trying to remember what he had written about it in his notes. "Everlasting friendship?" When Riza nodded, he grinned. "Where did you find it? I should get one for you."

"I'm not sure that's a wise decision," she said, pointing to a tree near the school and pressing her cheek against the fence. "I appreciate the sentiment, though."

"I guess we can share." He took the blossom and tickled her nose with it.

"Stop it," she chided. As happy as she looked, her voice was firm and he realized that none of Riza's classmates would recognize a friendship flower, especially when Roy himself wasn't entirely sure if he was flirting or not.

Feeling sheepish, Roy tucked it behind his ear again. "Sorry. I should have thought about how you probably spent the morning hearing about how your boyfriend walked you to class."

"My _handsome alchemist_ boyfriend," she corrected.

"Really? I'm glad you think so."

Riza rolled her eyes. "Of _course_ I think so. If you weren't an alchemist, you would've left a long time ago."

He tried to shove her but succeeded only in rattling the fence. Several people turned to look at them and Riza jumped to her feet. "I should go."

"I'll be waiting for you," he promised as she walked away, and he watched until she had disappeared behind heavy doors, wishing he could follow her instead.


	23. Fireflies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to hawkeyedriza for betaing and all the rest of you for reading!

Waiting, it seemed, was all Roy could do. As the end of the school year approached, Riza had at least three books with her at any given moment, and she ate every meal with her left hand while her right scribbled furiously in a notebook. Her face usually had at least one smudge of ink on it, which took a bit of the edge off her serious expression. Roy found himself doing most of the cooking, and even carried most of his master's meals upstairs, much to Hawkeye's surprise. The man did seemed pleased that his daughter showed as much dedication to her studies as he did, and encouraged Roy to follow her example. He made a face at the memory and flopped down on the couch, earning a scowl as his friend buried her nose deeper in _Forgotten Heroes of Amestris._

"How many weeks do you have until your history exam again?" he asked, craning his neck to see which hero she was reading about. He didn't recognize a single name on the page.

"It's this Friday," she said, turning away and tucking her legs onto the cushion beside her. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Nope."

She sighed and slammed the book closed. "And here I was under the impression you had a very important assessment this Sunday."

"I may have exaggerated its importance," he admitted glumly.

"It's only for another week and a half, and we have the whole summer ahead of us." He thought it was rather unfair of her to say that when, behind her irritation, she sounded so down herself.

Roy reached over and shook her shoulder affectionately. "And that's an entire week and a half you're willing to give up on? Come on, Riza. I cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom this morning, so you don't have to worry about chores."

"I can't argue when you look at me like that," she said. As she set the book aside, he couldn't help but notice the guilt in her eyes. He wanted to assuage it, so he grabbed a stack of her notes.

"Why don't I quiz you?" he offered, patting the seat she had just vacated.

She turned around and snatched the papers from his hands. "Those are personal."

"What? Did you sign your name Mrs. Riza Mustang? Or did you write Roy Hawkeye surrounded by hearts instead?" he teased, grabbing at one page that stuck out from the others.

Lifting the papers above her head, she cracked the first smile Roy had seen in nearly a month. "Assuming I had done something so childish, your second guess would have been much closer."

"I'll keep that in mind if I ever decide to ask you to marry me," he said, getting to his feet. She looked taken aback and he used the opportunity to snatch the notes away from her. Carefully, he made sure they were even and set them on top of her stack of books. "And now that that's out of the way, let's get some fresh air. You can tell me what you're studying while we walk."

"Oh, alright. I guess if I can explain it to you, I'll know that I understand it well enough to pass the test."

"Hey, was that supposed to be an insult?"

She only shrugged as she left the room. They put their shoes on in the entryway and made their way through the overgrown front yard to the road. "Left or right?" she asked.

"Right," he said. "If we go left, we'll just end up in town."

"And if we go right, we'll end up in the mountains somewhere."

Once they were out of sight of the house, Roy reached for her hand, squeezing her fingers when she allowed the contact. "How far does the road go?" he asked.

"Probably all the way to the next town," she guessed. "But I don't know. I've never even made it more than a mile into the canyon."

"Forget your gun?" he teased.

She shook her head sadly. "I realized it was wrong to run away."

From the way her hand tensed, he wasn't entirely sure she believed it. It seemed there was still some rebellious part of her that balked at her sense of duty, but he was glad the latter had won out. There was no doubt in his mind that she would have made it, that she could have carved out a new life for herself in whatever new town she might have reached, but if she had left, he never would have met her. He wanted to kiss her, to tell her how grateful he was that she had stayed without having to search for the right words, but he resisted the urge.

"You aren't even listening, Roy," she scolded and he looked over at her in surprise.

With a surge of guilt, he realized she must have been reciting her notes to him. "Sorry. I was thinking about other things."

"About how we should run away together?"

She was joking, of course, but he would be lying if he said the idea didn't appeal to him. They could hitchhike back to Central—and then what? He had reached the same dead end he always did. "Something almost as stupid," he said.

Riza's hair fluttered in the evening wind, and for a moment, she looked as though her own thoughts had carried her a million miles away. He wondered if they had anything in common with his but immediately discredited the idea. She had better control than that; she wouldn't let herself worry about kisses when she had exams to study for. "Are you ready for me to bore you with a physics review?" she said at length.

He made a face. "Do your worst."

As they wound their way up the dirt road under a darkening sky, Riza rattled off every physical law she could think of. On several occasions, she looked to Roy questioningly, as though expecting him to correct her on aspects she wasn't too certain about. He always smiled and nodded, encouraging her to go on; as far as he could tell, she understood it better than he did. As proud as he was of his friend, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. _She's the one who needs to do well on her tests,_ he reminded himself. But when she moved onto chemistry, his jealousy turned to irritation.

"Did I get something wrong?" she asked, looking down at her dusty shoes.

"No, you're perfect, as always," he assured her, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. After all, if he understood chemistry half as well as he had thought, he would have known to stay far, far away from her. _Or maybe that's biology._

Riza stopped walking, yanking her hand away to cross her arms in front of her chest. "What did I do wrong, Roy?"

He thought about lying. It would be so easy to tell her it was nothing—only two syllables and a casual shrug. It wouldn't even be a lie, just a half-truth. "You didn't do anything," he muttered. "It's me. You know this better than I do and I'm the one who's supposed to be your father's pride and joy."

Something flashed across her face, too quickly for him to read it, but when she spoke, her voice was dark and hollow, "That's different."

"Because you don't have a choice." Even though she was still standing with her arms tucked tightly against her body, he felt as though she had punched him in the gut. Part of him wished she would. He deserved it and it would hurt less than the expression on her face.

"That's not—never mind. Let's just go home," she said softly, rubbing her arms as though trying to warm them.

Roy wanted to hug her, but he knew she would only push him away if he tried. "I'm sorry, Riza. I didn't mean to upset you," he said as she turned around and headed down the road. "Hey, Riza, come back!"

Fireflies blinked in the dusk as Roy tore off after her. He couldn't imagine why she was still upset; she never seemed upset when he was jealous of her skill at chess. "Please move," she said when he stopped in front of her.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"My father—" She shook her head and he knew better than to press her. If she didn't want to tell him, then he couldn't make her. He held out his arms but she stepped around him instead. "Just don't let him see the letter, okay?" she whispered.

So that was it. Two weeks had passed since he had opened the envelope with Riza beside him. She had taken a break from her studies just to see what the letter said. She had hugged him and said she was proud as she read it over his shoulder—before he had even finished reading it himself. But he supposed it was possible to be happy for someone else and miserable all at the same time and he wondered if she had secretly been hoping the military didn't want him. "He hardly even comes downstairs," Roy said weakly, walking beside her once again. When she didn't say anything, he added, "And you know the last thing I want to do is leave you alone with only him for company."

She looked at him as though she wanted to tell him that he would stay if he really believed that, but all she said was, "Thank you."

He reached out to close his hands around a firefly and its faint green light shone between his fingers. And then it was gone. He felt legs scuttle across his palm and it flashed again. "Here."

Riza held out her hands and he dropped the insect into them. It no longer seemed interested in escaping and he hoped he hadn't damaged its wings. "I used to catch these when I was a kid. I'd keep them in a jar on my windowsill."

"And then you woke up the next morning and they were dead," Roy finished, remembering his own experiences with bugs.

"Don't be an idiot. I poked holes in the lid. Sorry, I wasn't trying to rub it in or anything," she amended as she noticed his frown.

He held up his hands. "No, no, it's fine. I was a pretty stupid kid sometimes."

"Everyone makes mistakes," she said gently, separating her cupped hands and watching as the firefly crawled down the side of her hand. As she looked up at him, eyes shining, he knew he had been forgiven. He noticed a small flash of green beneath her chin: the firefly had found its wings, and a moment later, Riza's hand found his.

He couldn't help but wonder if she counted his decision to become a soldier as a mistake, and he looked up at the stars, so faint against the light of the full moon. He tried to remember what she had told him under a different sky in what felt like a different lifetime. Something about heroes and lovers. She had probably had enough of heroes—that book she had left on the arm of the sofa had been full of names to memorize, after all. If he left, he might even be one of them someday: just one name in a list of forgotten men. At most, he would get a note about performing his duty to the military, whatever that might entail. No one would remember him. _But if I stay…_

Could he really be content with that decision? If he kept his mouth shut, he would be allowed to study his Master's secret research. But it would take—what? A few months? And then he would be done, with nowhere to go, nothing to do. He would have to wait enroll in the academy until the next year, and there was no way the military would accept a State Alchemist who was only eighteen, no matter what he could do. And if, by some miracle, they did, he was certain Hawkeye would kill him. No, it was better to be a forgotten hero than waste his time here when he couldn't even take the other option as Riza's lover. At least he would be able to send her a nice birthday present from Central.

"What's on your mind?" she asked.

"The usual." They had been over it so often and it was harder every time. He had made his decision long ago; there was no point in agonizing over it and she seemed to understand. Her hand slipped away from his and she put an arm around his shoulders, the difference in their heights causing her to stumble. "Careful," he said, catching her in an awkward embrace.

She looked up at him, mouth partway open, but said nothing. For a moment, she seemed too stunned to speak, and as she reached up and swept her bangs away from her eye, there was something in her expression that seemed almost shy. He felt her fingers curl around the collar of his shirt and then relax suddenly as she turned away.

"Riza? Is everything—" He swallowed the end of the sentence. Of course she wasn't alright: her heart would break the same as his at the end of the summer, and he had so thoughtlessly reminded her of that fact. He pulled her closer, rubbing her back as she rested her head against his chest. It was embarrassing the way his heart sped up when he held her. It never had before. Not at first, anyway.

Lifting her head, she peered up at him through her eyelashes, and she looked so lovely in the moonlight that Roy felt as though his heart had lodged itself somewhere in his throat. "We should go home," she said softly as she stepped away from his embrace

He drew in a deep breath, letting the chilly night air overpower him for a moment. _Home._ He was so close to going back, and yet the word no longer carried boisterous laughter from the bar below his room while he tried to study. Instead, he heard Riza humming softly to herself as she brushed toast crumbs from her fingers and flipped the pages of her notebook. It would be so much easier to sort out his feelings if she hadn't admitted she felt the same, so much easier to accept that they would only ever be friends than to wonder at an uncertain future.

"Yeah," he agreed, taking her hand once again as he looked down the moonlit road. "Let's go back."


	24. Choices

The front door swung open with such force that Roy heard it all the way in the kitchen. He put the last clean dish in the cupboard and turned just in time to see Riza barreling toward him. "Best score in my year," she said breathlessly as he pulled her into a bear hug and lifted her off the ground.

"I knew you would be," he said, squeezing her tighter. He set her on the ground again and she pulled away from his arms, reaching into the empty cupboard for a glass. "Did you run the whole way here?"

She nodded and held the cup under the tap. She drained it then filled it again. She sipped the second glass slowly as she gazed out the window.

"I saw a deer," Roy told her.

"Really? When?" Setting the glass aside, she wiped her mouth.

"About half an hour ago."

"Give me a minute to change and we'll look for it."

As she dashed out of the room, Roy sighed and went to the pantry. He wasn't about to let her run off again without eating. He found a can of tuna and carried it to the counter, shaking his head as he opened it.

"Are you making a sandwich?" Riza's voice startled him and he looked up to see her sitting at the table, tugging a sock onto her foot. Her dark green tank top looked as though she had put it on backwards and her skirt was somewhat lopsided.

"Yes," he said, feeling somewhat exasperated. "And you have plenty of time to put your clothes on properly, so slow down."

She looked up at him in confusion before looking down at her shirt and the foot she had been trying to cram into the wrong boot. "Right," she said, putting her shoes on the correct feet before standing. "I'll be in the dining room."

When she returned, he put the sandwich on a plate and guided her to the table, insisting that she at least sit to eat. The impatience on her face made him smirk, but his smile faded as she scarfed her meal down so quickly he was certain she would choke. She pushed the chair back and Roy cringed as the legs scraped across the floor.

"Take it easy," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders before she could stand. Bony though she was, he could feel the tension in her muscles and instinct told him it would be safer to let go and stand back, but her skin was soft and warm under his fingers and the contact seem to have a calming effect. Her breathing slowed and she tipped her head back to look up at him.

"The longer we wait, the harder it'll be to track the deer," she said.

"And how easy will it be if you throw up all over the trail because you ran off before your food had time to settle?"

"That wouldn't even be a problem if I didn't have a stupid boy force-feeding me," she said. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him until a sudden hiccup shook her body. Her composure crumbled as several more followed.

Fighting back laughter, Roy dashed to the sink and filled her glass. "Drink this."

She tried to gulp it down but her hiccups sent it down the front of her shirt and she wiped her mouth miserably.

"No, you have to do it upside down," he told her.

"How—the hell am I—supposed to do that?" she hiccupped.

Roy demonstrated and she stared at him in disbelief for a moment before attempting it herself. "Did that help?" he asked when she sat upright.

"What—do you think?" she said. Water dripped from her nose and trickled down her chest. She hiccupped again, slamming the glass on the table in frustration.

Unable to hold it in anymore, Roy laughed, using the table to steady himself. "I'm sorry," he said, fighting to catch his breath. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad. It's just…well, you look…"

"Ridiculous?" she said. The hurt in her voice sobered him up immediately and he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Just a little. Let's try something else," he suggested.

She followed him to the counter, each step punctuated by another hiccup. "What now?" she asked.

"Hold this." He shoved a spoon into her hand and guided her back to the table. "Now sit and don't turn around."

Tilting her head back, she attempted a frown. "You're not—planning something are you?"

"Of course not. What gives you that idea?" As she looked away, he slipped a piece of chalk from his pocket and went to the pantry. He drew a circle on the shelf beside the sugar jar and set a crumpled piece of paper on it. When the transmutation finished, he opened the jar and set the altered paper inside before carrying it to the table.

"What—am I supposed to do—with this?" she asked.

"Eating a spoonful of sugar is the best cure for hiccups, I promise," he said.

"Then why—didn't you suggest it in the first place," she grumbled, glaring at him as she removed the lid. When she looked back at the jar, she flinched slightly before reaching in and removing the paper spider. She crunched it into a ball and threw it at him. "That's _not_ funny, Roy."

"Oh, come on. It worked, didn't it?"

She hiccupped in response.

After two spoonsful of sugar and holding her breath as long as she could, Riza finally seemed like she was back to normal. She replaced the lid and stood, leaving the dirty spoon on the table as she straightened her skirt.

"Next time don't eat so fast, okay?" Roy said gently.

"Next time don't make me eat when I'm in a hurry," she shot back.

He shrugged. "You were hungry enough to eat it and I didn't want you collapsing out there. I don't care how scrawny you are, it'd be a pain in the ass to haul you back here."

"Some soldier you'll be," she grumbled, stepping past him to get to the door. She slung her gun over one shoulder on the way out.

As he stepped into the afternoon sunshine, Roy found himself dreading his evaluation. The attic had grown warmer with each passing week and soon it would reach that unbearably sticky, sweltering heat he remembered from his first month here. How Hawkeye spent every day up there was a mystery to him. Maybe that was the real reason behind his alchemy: gaining a better understanding of fire in order to cope with high temperatures.

Riza picked up the trail effortlessly, following hoofmarks that, more often than not, he couldn't even see. She stepped quietly through the dirt and he did his best to follow suit, even though she still turned to shush him more than he felt was necessary. No one was more painfully aware of how he tromped along like an elephant than he was. He made a face at her back and she reached back to put a finger over his lips even though he hadn't said anything. Even with his mouth closed, he swore he could taste tuna and he jerked his head back.

Almost immediately, she withdrew her hand, using it to ready her gun. As Roy followed the barrel, he saw the deer grazing in a clearing several meters ahead. She didn't seem to notice her hunters, and it looked like a clear shot, but Riza's arms began to tremble and she lowered her weapon. "What are you doing?" he whispered.

"She has a baby with her. I can't kill her. It—it wouldn't be fair." Her voice shook more than her hands as she choked out the short sentences.

Roy wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on the top of her head. "It's okay, Riza," he said soothingly. "You don't have to. I get it."

She sank into him and he stumbled at the added weight, suddenly wary of the gun in her hands. It was pointed at the ground, and he didn't think she'd managed to get the safety off before her hands had started to shake, but he still couldn't steady his nerves. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to the top of her head.

All at once, she stiffened. "Roy," she began in a careful tone, "did you just kiss me?"

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have done it. I should have tried something else to calm you." He opened his eyes again.

"That was what Mother used to do when I was scared," she said, her voice less wooden than before. Pulling away from his embrace, she set her gun carefully against a tree. She looked down at her feet for a moment before stepping into Roy's arms again.

He brushed her bangs away from her forehead and kissed it gently, feeling more confident than he had before. When he looked down at her, she seemed calmer and he smiled. "Well, if there's anything else I can do…"

"I'll let you know," she finished warmly. Standing on her toes, she kissed his cheek.

All at once, the air seemed much too hot for early June. Riza looked a little red herself, and Roy ruffled her hair affectionately. Even though he had spent so much time worrying about how little they had left, the summer seemed to stretch out before him, as vast as the distance between this small mountain village and Central. And he looked forward to every minute of it, especially if this was any indication of where their relationship was headed.

"It's nice," she said softly.

"What's nice?"

"Having someone who loves me. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like, but then you showed up." She rested her head against his chest and he understood what she had left unsaid.

"Your father loves you too," he told her gently. "He thanked me for befriending you."

When she looked up, her expression had turned sour. "It would be nice if he let me know once in a while instead of spending all his time consumed with his research."

"I've never told you that I love you either," Roy protested, wondering why he was defending Hawkeye. As brilliant as the man was, he wasn't exactly father of the year.

Riza pulled away to poke him in the gut. "You've never had to. I know you do because you're always there for me. Even before you knew me."

"That's what friends are for," he said. He tried to remember the last time someone had said those words to him. Maybe Christmas had when he was tiny, but he wasn't sure. But she had hugged him when he cried, and ruffled his hair. The girls had always done the same, had teased him like he was their brother until he had started referring to them that way. And Riza—well, she was Riza. She had done all of that and more, and she needed love far more than he did. It wasn't fair that the universe had left her all alone for so many years.

"But that's what family's for, too," he added. "I wish I understood why he shuts you out."

"I think it hurts for him to look at me," she said sadly. "Wouldn't you have a hard time being around someone who looked just like your dead wife?"

Roy pursed his lips and looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. "I don't think that will be a problem. If I become a soldier, my family will have access to the best doctors in Amestris."

Was that hope in her eyes? Her lips curled into a faint smile for a moment, though it faded as she looked away. "Whoever you marry, she'll be lucky to have someone like you," she said.

"You think so?" he teased, avoiding her eyes. Maybe it was stupid of him, but he was a little hurt by the way she said it, as though she didn't even consider that he might have meant her. It wasn't that he expected to marry her, but for the first time—instead of picturing some vague face his imagination had constructed—he had thought of her. "Well, you know what I think?"

"What?" she asked.

"I think the man who marries you will be the luckiest person who ever lived." When he finally managed to meet her gaze, she was blushing.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and shook her head before opening them. "If you'll excuse me, I have a few strongly worded letters to write." Bending down to grab her gun, she made her way back toward the house.

"Who are you writing to?" Roy asked, chasing after her.

"The authors of romance novels," Riza said, as though it should have been obvious. "They've all gotten it wrong: one little kiss and it's the boy who thinks of marriage, not the girl."

Roy rolled his eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Stopping abruptly, she turned on her heels to stare at him questioningly. "Then tell me truthfully, Roy Mustang: if you thought I would say yes, would you ask me to marry you?"

"You know, it would be a lot easier to answer that if you weren't holding a gun."

"It's not pointed at you," she said with a heavy sigh. "Just answer the damn question."

Roy took a deep breath, savoring the summer air in his lungs. He knew perfectly well how fast she could aim, especially at point blank range. "No. Not now, anyway. And I know you wouldn't say yes now either."

"Good." She relaxed, looking much more at ease than he had seen her in a while, and he wondered if this had been on her mind for longer than she had let on. For all he knew, it might have been worrying her since he had first confessed his feelings.

Riza's free hand slipped into his as they continued walking, but for some reason, the contact made his heart ache. What a fool he was to think this would last forever simply because they had been inseparable for the past year. Even worse, he had already begun to think of her as part of his family, and he had a nasty suspicion that the rest of his family knew it. In her last letter, Christmas had asked if Riza was coming to visit at the end of the summer, adding that everyone at the bar wanted to meet her. He had replied that her father wouldn't allow it, but in truth he had been too afraid to ask either of them. Hawkeye would immediately veto the idea, especially since he would have to explain why he was leaving. He looked over at Riza, her expression unreadable until she caught him staring.

"What is it?" she asked, frowning, although she looked more concerned than upset.

"I was just wondering something," he said, rubbing his chin. It wouldn't be fair to ask her to stay with him, but maybe there was something else. "Would you say yes if I asked you on a date?"

"A date," she repeated uncertainly.

"You can say no."

"I don't want to say no." Her pace slackened as she looked down at her feet. "It's just…"

Roy sighed and slowed as well. "People will talk," he finished glumly. "But they already do, Riza."

She gave a short, bitter laugh. "You think I don't know that? You think I wouldn't have said yes in a heartbeat if they didn't?"

"Then let's give them something else to talk about," he suggested. "Let them see that I respect you, that I'm not using you like they say I am. Besides, a nice dinner will take your mind off that deer." Squeezing her hand, he looked over to gauge her reaction, but her face was expressionless.

"Dinner does sound tempting," she admitted at length. "Alright, Roy. You can have one date."

"Excellent." Grinning, he tugged her along. "Let's hurry back so we can get cleaned up."

"You don't have to act so smug," she muttered. "I'm not exactly the kind of girl to blow your horn home about."

"Yes, you are. Now come on." He broke into a run, and Riza stumbled after him, struggling to keep her gun pointed away from them. Her hand was sticky in his and he suspected this heat wave had something to do with his newfound boldness. As they raced through the woods, he tried to ignore the nagging doubts in the back of his mind that this was a terrible idea.


	25. Table for Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to all my readers, especially my beta hawkeyedriza!

All the advice Roy had even been given swam through his head at once as he put a clean pair of socks on inside out. Everyone from his aunt to the boys in the locker room had told him not to rush a girl getting ready, but he doubted that applied to Riza. She couldn't afford to wear makeup apart from a cheap balm she used to keep her lips from bleeding in the winter. He tugged his socks off and righted them, shaking his head. Of course she was taking a while to get ready: she had insisted on bathing and he still hadn't heard the tub drain. It wasn't like they were in Central, where they had to make reservations far in advance and arrive half an hour early to make sure their table wasn't given away.

According to Riza, there were only a few restaurants, and only one of them was actually nice. He pulled on a pair of black trousers and reached for a dress shirt. He had made a face at Christmas's back when she had insisted he pack at least one nice set of clothes, but now he was grateful. He would look silly taking Riza out in an ordinary shirt and pants.

When he had finished dressing, he examined his reflection in the window, adjusting his tie and combing his hair best as he could without being able to see most of it. As far as he knew, Riza was still in the bathroom, and he decided to study a bit in the meantime. As he picked up his notes, he wondered whether or not he would be able to fix the showerhead. Hawkeye hadn't bothered with it, although that was probably just an oversight. Maybe he should have offered to try before Riza had drawn her bath. Then again, he didn't want to make things worse. He flipped another page of the book Hawkeye had loaned him and paused briefly in his reading to copy down the circle beside the text.

A knock startled him and his pen slipped, leaving a jagged line through the middle of the circle. He grunted in frustration and crumpled the page. "Are you still getting ready?" Riza asked.

"I'm almost finished. You can come in if you like." He slammed the book shut and searched around for his shoes as the door creaked open. Heels clacked against the wood floor as she stepped inside, the same lavender dress she had worn to the harvest festival so many months ago clinging to her in a way it hadn't before. It was cut far lower than he had remembered as well, and he looked away in embarrassment, concentrating rather more than necessary on putting his feet into his shoes. When he stood, he crossed the room and took her hands in his. "You're beautiful."

She looked away shyly. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Of course it is," he said reassuringly as he released her hands and gestured toward the door. "After you."

They walked to town hand in hand, and for once, Riza didn't let go when they reached the outskirts. Instead, she clutched Roy tighter and he could tell she was nervous. "Hey, everything's going to be just fine," he whispered in her ear, short blonde hair tickling his nose.

"If you say so." She didn't sound entirely convinced and he squeezed her hand before pulling his away to wrap an arm around her waist. Startled, Riza jerked away. "Stop that! It's one thing to hold hands, but that's something else entirely."

"Sorry." Roy held out his arm, and to his relief, she took it.

"That's better." She cuddled closer to him as they made their way through the quiet streets. The restaurant she had named was busier than he had expected, but it was a Friday night, and he supposed there wasn't really much else to do in a town like this. They went inside together, but as they approached the counter, Riza slipped away to sit on an empty chair in a quiet corner of the waiting area. He smiled reassuringly at her before turning to the woman behind the counter.

"How many in your party this evening?" she asked.

"Two," he said, glancing back at Riza.

Recognition flashed across the woman's face and she handed two menus to a boy standing beside her. "He will seat you immediately."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Roy said, feeling guilty as he looked around at the other people in the lobby. The woman, most likely the owner, was probably worried about what an alchemist might do if he wasn't given a table right away. He held out his arm to Riza again when she joined them, but her own stayed resolutely by her side.

She squeaked a quiet thank you as he pulled out her chair once they had reached the table. The air in the restaurant was chilly, so he put his jacket around her shoulders for good measure as well.

"Take a moment to look over your menus. I will be back to take your orders shortly." The waiter bowed awkwardly as Roy took his seat.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly as Riza studied the menu in front of her.

"I feel like everyone's staring at us," she whispered back. "And look at the prices."

"In Central, this place would be considered cheap, so order whatever you want," he assured her, although he had to admit that was stretching the truth. It was closer to the low end of moderately priced restaurants. Still, it was well within his budget, and there were plenty of things on the menu he was certain Riza had never had the chance to try before.

She skimmed over the menu several times before looking up at him again and her stomach growled loudly enough for him to hear across the table. "It all sounds delicious," she said.

"If you can narrow it down to two, I could order one so you can try both," he offered.

After several minutes, she had named two different appetizers, which Roy noted were the cheapest things on the menu. Frowning, he reached across the table and took her menu, rolling it so the prices were hidden. "You said I could order anything," she grumbled as she yanked it back.

"At least order a meal," he said gently, although he was starting to get impatient. He had seen her watch wistfully as a waiter walked by with a tray filled with steak and shrimp and it was tempting to tell her to just order one of those.

"Fine." She glared at the menu, unfurling it slowly as Roy shook his head. There was no point, really. He hated arguing with her under normal circumstances, and he felt a thousand times worse doing it on a date.

He had just decided to order the shrimp and put a few on her plate when the waiter stepped up to the table once again. "What would you like to drink?"

"Water," they said at the same time. It wouldn't be fair to order wine when Riza couldn't have any.

"And what would you like to eat, sir?"

"I'll have the shrimp," Roy said, holding out the menu.

"And for you, miss?"

Looking nervously at Roy, she handed her menu to the waiter as well. "I would like a steak, please," she said.

The man nodded. "How would you like it cooked?"

"Cooked?" She looked at Roy uncertainly and he kicked himself for forgetting this was probably her first time in a real restaurant, much less ordering an expensive cut of meat.

"Could you give us a few more minutes to decide?" Roy said pleasantly and the waiter nodded, stepping away to another table. Turning to back to Riza, he gave a guilty smile. "How much pink do you want in the center?"

"Pink?" She frowned. "Is that safe?"

Roy held down a sigh, knowing she would think it was directed at her rather than his own oversight. "Have you ever had a steak before?"

"Maybe when I was a kid. I don't really remember." Shifting slightly, she took a sip of water.

"It's perfectly fine if you want it cooked all the way through," he assured her. "But it's juicier and easier to chew if you don't."

She glanced over her shoulder at the approaching waiter. "If I want to try pink, what do I tell him?"

"Medium."

"Are you ready now?" the waiter asked, looking mildly exasperated.

Riza set her glass aside. "Can I have a medium steak, please?"

With an air of exaggerated patience, the waiter nodded and wrote her order on his pad. "Your food will be ready shortly."

"Thank you," Roy said, resisting the urge to make a face at the man's back. He had planned to leave an extra generous tip to make up for the trouble, but he was starting to feel irritated at the man's lack of respect for Riza. It was no secret that she was poor, so how was she supposed to know what to say? If the man had a right to be upset with anyone, it was Roy for forgetting to explain restaurant etiquette beforehand.

It was impressive how steady Riza's hands were, even when she looked miserable. She lifted her water glass again and took a long drink before setting it on the table and wiping her mouth with the napkin she had placed primly in her lap. Feeling sheepish, he unfolded his own and placed it in his lap as well. He wished he could bring the waiter back and beg him to give her credit for having manners, which should have made up for her spotty knowledge of cuisine.

"I'm really sorry about him," Roy said, nodding his head toward the kitchen and reaching across the table for her hand.

She pulled away nervously. "It's fine. I should have asked you first."

"It's not fine," he insisted. "I can see how nervous you are."

Not particularly reassured, she looked down and tugged her dress up. "Don't worry about it. I'm used to it."

"Well, at the very least, you deserved a better first date than this."

"At least I'm with you," she said, glancing up at him.

Roy's heart seemed to be doing backflips as a smile spread across his face. "I'm glad I can do something right, at least."

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, the waiter returned and set their plates on the table, saying that they were hot. Riza disregarded this warning entirely, scooting hers closer to the edge the table and picking up her silverware. Roy placed a few shrimp beside her steak and she looked up at him disbelievingly.

"Go on," he encouraged. "You aren't allergic to seafood, are you?"

"I wouldn't know. I've never tried it." She eyed the shrimp warily before spearing one with her fork and lifting it to her mouth.

"How does it taste?" he asked as she chewed, relieved that she didn't seem to be having a negative reaction.

"Delicious," she replied after swallowing.

The rest of the meal passed quietly, and Roy found himself missing the dinners they had shared at home, laughing and joking and doing the dishes together after. Every attempt he made at conversation fell flat as Riza answered with only short sentences, never saying anything more unless he interrupted the silence first. It was almost a relief when the waiter returned with the tab and Roy handed the money over immediately.

Outside, Riza seemed to relax and Roy wrapped his jacket around her shoulders gently. "Are you alright?" he asked, putting an arm around her as they walked.

"Better now," she said, breathing in the cool night air as though that was the cure. "I'm sorry, Roy."

"Sorry? For what?"

She struggled to tuck her arms through the sleeves of the jacket and looked at him incredulously. "A bad first date. What else?"

Holding her tighter, he shrugged with his free arm. "It's not like I have anything to compare it to, really."

Her eyes still seemed doubtful, but she relaxed as she pressed herself against him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." A comfortable silence spread between them, so different from the tension he had felt in the restaurant, and Roy decided that, when he looked back on tonight, this would be what he remembered. He smiled up at the dark sky. The stars were coming out one at a time, and to his surprise, he found himself making a wish on each one.

Riza stumbled, the heel of her shoe caught in a soft patch of sand. Concerned, he stopped walking and helped steady her. "Would you like me to carry you?" he offered. She looked exhausted, and her shoes certainly weren't doing her any favors.

"It's a long way," she said. "Your arms will get sore."

"Not if I carry you on my back." He stepped in front of her and crouched down. "Come on, you'll be light as a feather this way."

With only a moment's hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck and he stood, holding onto her legs as he did. She really was light, and she held onto him gently, arms crossed on his chest as she rested her chin on his shoulder. "What are we going to do tomorrow?" she asked sleepily, her breath tickling his ear.

"Whatever you want," he replied. He knew he would have to study at some point, but it was the first day of Riza's summer vacation and she had a right to decide how they spent it.

"Maybe we could have a picnic," she said with a yawn, her jaw pressing down into his shoulder. "Or you could fix the rods like you said and we could go fishing."

"I should have done that already," he said, feeling sheepish. He had all but forgotten about it in the months that had passed since he had joked they ought to go ice fishing if there was no game to hunt.

"It's fine," she told him, leaning her head against his. "I know you just started learning how to perform such complicated transmutations."

She was so close, he half hoped she would lean in for a kiss, but he immediately discarded the idea. Squeezing her legs affectionately, he smiled, hoping she would feel his cheek move even if she couldn't see his face. "I'll fix them in the morning," he promised. "And while I'm at it, I'll fix the shower too."

When they returned home, he bent down so Riza could open the front door, intending to carry her all the way to her room. "That's funny," she said as he stepped inside. "I thought I turned the lights off."

"You did." Hawkeye stepped out of the shadows beside the stairs. Roy stumbled back, nearly knocking Riza into the doorframe. She grabbed at his shirt with a yelp of surprise and he paused for a moment to set her down.

"Father," she said, wobbling to the bench and removing her shoes. "What are you doing down here?"

"I've been waiting for you to return since I finished eating." He fixed her with a stern look and she looked down at her bare toes, hugging herself with arms completely swallowed by Roy's too-large jacket.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

It wasn't Roy's place to step between parent and child, and it definitely wasn't his place to question the man he called Master, but damned if he cared more about alchemy—and propriety—than Riza. "It was my fault, Sir," he said, placing a gentle hand on the crown of Riza's head and mussing her hair affectionately. "I'm the one who convinced her she deserved the night off for a change, so I took her to a restaurant in town."

Hawkeye's eyes narrowed and Roy was glad he had had the sense to bite his tongue before reminding the man that Riza was his daughter not his slave. And even though he had a right to be concerned, there was nothing wrong with a teenage girl going on a date with a boy she liked. Even less, in the eyes of a concerned father, with her spending time with a friend. Roy hoped that Hawkeye assumed the latter was the case, but since Roy had carried Riza through the door on his back, it was more likely that Hawkeye had guessed the truth. "At least you brought my daughter home safely," he said after several tense moments, leaning against the railing.

"Of course I did." Roy moved his hand to Riza's shoulder and squeezed it. "I'd never let anything bad happen to her."

Riza squirmed uncomfortably until her father's gaze softened. "Very well," he said. Turning back to his daughter, he added, "I would like to speak with you alone, Riza."

Jumping to her feet, she let out a nervous squeak Roy supposed was meant to be a yes. She shrugged out of the jacket and Roy took it from her, folding it over one arm as she followed her father down the hall. He took up Riza's spot on the bench. It was still warm and he sank against the wall, wondering what kind of lecture she was receiving. He knew exactly what kind his aunt would give out under these circumstances, and his face turned pink as he imagined Riza receiving the same.

When she slunk back into the entry hall, she didn't even look at him as she sank onto the bench by his side. "That bad, huh?" he said, nudging her gently.

"Awful," she agreed.

"And to think we didn't even kiss." Roy looked over at her, grinning.

She rested her hands in her lap, fingers fidgeting nervously. "He didn't mention kissing."

Roy narrowed his eyes. "I didn't think so. I just meant, if we didn't kiss, there's no reason for him to be worried about what comes after."

"That wasn't it either," she said, looking uncomfortable. "It was just paranoia about me being in town after dark. He doesn't trust the people there."

That was difficult to believe, coming from someone who paraded strange men through his house and made them stay across the hall from his young daughter. Roy might have even found it funny if he wasn't concerned about Riza. "I told him I'd protect you," he said.

She forced a miserable bark of laughter. "You won't always be here."

"No, I won't," he agreed. "And you don't need anyone to protect you either."

This time, her smile was genuine, and she slumped against him as though her exhaustion had finally caught up with her. He had to steady himself to keep from falling off the bench. Nestling his head against hers, Roy smiled as well, relieved that Hawkeye had simply been concerned about Riza's safety. And for once, he was so content that the thought of his Master walking back into the hall and seeing the two of them like this couldn't ruin Roy's mood.


	26. Distant Thunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to hawkeyedriza for betaing and everyone else for reading! I'll be out of town for the next two weeks so I'm afraid I won't be updating until I get back. Sorry about that, but I'll do my best to get it back on a regular schedule after I return.

The summer air hung heavy, sandwiched between green fields and roiling grey clouds. Roy's shirt was sticky with sweat and he shifted uncomfortably, eliciting a surprised groan from Riza, who had fallen asleep with her head in his lap. Bleary-eyed, she stifled a yawn and gave him a sleepy smile. "Still nothing?" she asked, reaching for her own fishing rod.

Roy nodded. "I would never have guessed it was possible to empty a river in only a month," he said. And even if it truly was empty now, it hadn't been very full to begin with. While they had caught enough fish for Roy to hope he never had to clean another one, that wasn't saying much. Riza had laughed at him when he had passed the carcass to her immediately after cutting it open. At least it was still more practical than buying meat. _And fishing certainly has its perks,_ he noted as he stroked her hair.

Without sitting up, Riza cast her line into the water, a little upstream from Roy's. She shifted to a slightly more comfortable position, turning her head so she had a better view of her line. Still playing with her hair, Roy smiled down at her. It was nice to have her so close, even in this miserable heat. A low rumble startled them both and Riza jerked her head up. "Relax," he murmured. "It's still over the mountains." He looked across the valley to the spot where rain obscured the peaks. Lightning flickered in those faraway clouds, followed much later by faint thunder. "See? Nothing to worry about?"

"The storm will get here eventually," she said. "Maybe we should head back."

"Let's wait awhile. At least it will cool down once the rain comes," he replied. She rolled onto her back to stare at him as though he had lost his mind. As close as they were to the water's edge, he could understand her concern, but he didn't want to move just yet. Riza, however, didn't seem to care. She used her free hand to swat his away and sat up.

Wind swept through the dry grass and she tilted her head to the sky, closing her eyes. "Five more minutes," she ceded with a smile tugging at her lips. Roy reeled in his line and placed a hand over hers, unable to suppress a grin of his own as he drank in the serenity on her face. The sight of her so at peace sent a surge of affection through him, so strong he felt as though he might choke on it. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tightened his grip on her hand and leaned his head against hers until the first drops of rain splattered across his face. Riza jolted beside him and he opened his eyes in time to watch her scramble to her feet, twisting her hand to pull him up as well.

The rain began to fall in earnest as she dragged him across the field. Far in the distance, rays of sunlight poked through the clouds, scarcely visible through the sudden downpour. "Look," he told Riza, pointing with the end of his fishing rod.

"It's beautiful," she agreed, holding his hand tighter.

"Not as beautiful as you," he said, but she didn't seem to hear. They raced across the hillside, hair wet and matted down, clothes sticking uncomfortably to their skin. At least Riza hadn't felt the need to say I told you so.

The house came into view and moments later, they splashed across the muddy road to the gate. Riza pulled her hand away to fumble with the slick metal latch and they walked up to the house, leaning their rods against the wall and using each other as support to remove their shoes before stepping inside. They sat side by side on the bench to peel off their socks as the wind drove rain against the window much harder than it had fallen before. "Looks like we made it just in time," she said, holding her socks gingerly as she stood.

Shivering slightly, he followed her up the stairs. The floorboards creaked under their bare feet and the storm howled outside, but otherwise the house was silent. No sounds of transmutation came from the attic, and neither friend felt much like speaking. Roy considered taking a warm shower but resisted the temptation. Riza looked every bit as cold as he felt and even though he knew better to invite her to join him, he had a feeling his mind would wander once she was out of sight. And then he would need another, much colder shower to clear it.

Ever since their disastrous first date, Roy had refrained from asking her on a second, and yet, every outing they took felt like one. Fishing and picnics and swimming and wading in the creek, always touching but never talking about what they were doing for fear of something he couldn't name. As he stood alone in his room, changing into dry clothes, he frowned. They were a couple in all but name, as far as he was concerned, and Hawkeye didn't seem to care. He supposed there was a chance that the alchemist hadn't noticed, but surely the man had to have some idea that his apprentice was completely smitten with his daughter. Roy sighed and tugged a shirt over his head. Maybe this Sunday he would finally get the guts to ask permission. No, that was ridiculous, he realized. He didn't need to wait. The only person whose permission he needed was across the hall and perfectly willing to talk with him any day of the week.

When he knocked on her door, Riza answered immediately and motioned for him to come inside. She held out her hand as they stood by the window, but he put his arm around her waist instead. Warmth settled over him as she moved closer, leaning her head against his shoulder as they watched raindrops race down the glass. After several moments, she slipped her own arm around him. "It's a shame we're trapped inside like this," he muttered, shifting his fingers absentmindedly on her stomach.

She placed her free hand over his. "I don't mind. It's not like anything was biting today." Lightning flashed in the distance and she cuddled closer to him.

Instinctively gripping her tighter, Roy began to realize why she had insisted on coming back so soon. "You're afraid of storms," he said.

"No," she protested. "Not since I was a kid." She seemed to be telling the truth, and yet something had her ill at ease. Maybe the thunder sounded too much like her father walking in on the two of them. "I saw the letter."

"The letter?" He frowned for a moment, trying to remember one he hadn't told her about. He had even found the courage to bring up his aunt's offer to let her visit, and she had been loath to reject it, citing her duty to her father as the only reason for staying. Although, he had a feeling her pride had played a part as well. She didn't want to rely on someone else to pay her ticket.

Riza shifted and pulled away to grip the windowsill with both hands. "You're leaving early."

"Only by a week," he said, wondering why he bothered defending himself. It wasn't like he wanted to go. "What were you doing reading my mail anyway?"

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, shifting her hands on the windowsill. "By the time I realized what it was, I had already seen the dates. Only six weeks before you leave? That's not a long time."

He shrugged before slipping his arm around her waist once more. "I seem to recall it took about six weeks for me to offer to help you with the laundry. I'm sure washing all my socks by yourself felt like an eternity."

From her reflection in the window, he saw her nose wrinkle. "It wasn't just your socks," she complained, bumping her hip into his. "I had to wash everything."

"I'm sorry I didn't help sooner," he said, slightly embarrassed. Even though he knew she had only seen him as a friend at the time, knowing that she had handled all of his clothes made him uncomfortable.

She shook her head. "It's fine," she assured him. "At least it was before all this happened."

Laughing, Roy gazed out the window. It was strange to think back on those days now, to remember that a time had existed when they hadn't even been friends, let alone whatever they had become in the past few weeks. Which brought him back to the reason he had come to her room in the first place. As he turned his attention back to Riza, he realized that he still didn't dare broach the subject. The quiet intimacy they shared had no need for words, no need for a name. It seemed almost a form of alchemy: precise and measured and incredibly complicated. He only wished that, in one of the countless books lining the walls of Hawkeye's study, he would find a code explaining the human heart.

Another low rumble spread through the valley, but this time, Riza remained still. With eyes focused so intently on something far in the distance, it was entirely possible she hadn't heard it at all. He gripped her tighter and her attention returned to the room. "What?" she asked, straightening as she turned to look at him. Water dripped from the ends of her limp bangs and ran down the side of her face like tears.

Unsure of what to say, he simply shook his head. As he turned away, her hands flew up and caught his collar. Her fingers crumpled the neatly pressed fabric and Roy's eyes widened in surprise. "Riza, what—?"

Standing on her toes, she yanked down. He lost his balance and stumbled forward, catching himself on the cold window and inadvertently pinning Riza to it. She didn't seem to mind. She stretched her neck, inching her face towards his. As he tilted his head, thunder clapped all around them and Riza sank to the floor, shaking harder than the walls. Even though her trembling hands had released him, Roy knelt in front of her and hugged her hard. "It's okay. I've got you."

He felt her nod against his shoulder. "I know," she whispered.

"Why did you lie?" he asked. "You said you weren't afraid."

Fists clutched the back of his shirt. "I'm not scared of thunder," she said, her breath warm against his neck.

"Riza, it's okay to be scared." He pulled her into his lap and rocked her gently until she leaned back to look at him again, eyes shining as intensely as they had before. Her hands traveled up his back as she leaned in, her face only centimeters away. "Are you sure?"

She nodded almost imperceptibly before pressing her lips to his. Roy closed his eyes and tightened his arms around her. After several moments, Riza's mouth began to move against his; he followed, letting her control the tempo of the kiss while his heart beat as wildly as the rain against the window. She seemed so confident, so certain of what she was doing that he could hardly believe she had never done this before. Teeth scraped against his, jarring him back to reality. His eyes snapped open and he pulled back, wincing slightly. Riza looked at him sheepishly, lips still parted. "Sorry."

Grinning, he shrugged. "It's fine. We can always try again," he said. "I-if you want to, of course."

"You're cute when you get flustered, you know," she said, shifting to cup his face in both of her hands. She kissed him again, and this time, she didn't hesitate before forcing his lips apart. He allowed himself a moment of abandon, and everything disappeared apart from her. Her lips—even softer than he had imagined—working so forcefully against his own. Her fingers caressing his cheeks with surprising gentleness. Her body pressed close, legs straddling his. She was so captivating, so utterly engrossing that he forgot all about the military, alchemy, even the storm outside. All that mattered was the girl in his arms and the certainty that he would do anything to spend the rest of his life at her side.

This time, Riza pulled away, looking slightly alarmed. "What's wrong?" Roy asked, planting a chaste kiss on the corner of her mouth. She didn't respond. Instead, she stared at something behind him as the color drained from her face. "Riza? Hey, Riza, are you alright?"

"Father," she squeaked, "what are you doing in my room?"

Roy's entire body felt hollow as her words rang in his ears. He turned to look over his shoulder, terrified of what awaited him. Hawkeye stood with his arms across his chest, staring intently at the two of them. Riza squirmed uncomfortably, but Roy didn't dare let her go. The folds of her skirt concealed a rather embarrassing bulge and he hoped to keep that hidden. He turned back to Riza, relieved when his desperation caught her eye. He glanced down for a moment before meeting her gaze again and she stopped struggling as she realized what he was trying to convey.

"Why wouldn't a man want to make sure his daughter made it home safely with a storm raging outside?" Hawkeye said indifferently.

Riza hung her head and snuggled closer to Roy. "Of course, Father. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," he chided. "And as for you, Mustang, I'd like to speak to you in private."

"Yes, sir," Roy said. He shot Riza a worried glance before turning back to his master. "Does it have to be right now?"

Hawkeye nodded. "Before you resume eating my daughter's face, if you don't mind."

"Yes, sir," he said sheepishly. He got to his feet, pulling Riza with him, and as he moved, she positioned herself in front of him.

"I said privately, Riza," Hawkeye said in a warning tone.

She nodded meekly and stepped aside, sinking onto her bed with one last, worried glance at Roy. He forced a smile that he hoped was at least somewhat reassuring and followed his master out of the room.


	27. Repercussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the wait! Hopefully I can get the next chapter up soon. Thanks for sticking with me and shout out to hawkeyedriza for betaing.

"Does she know?" Hawkeye asked, closing the attic door behind them.

Roy stared at him blankly. "Know what?"

With a longsuffering sigh, Hawkeye took a seat at the table and rested his chin on his fingertips. He studied Roy for a moment before speaking. "That you plan to become a soldier."

Somewhat taken aback, Roy sank into his usual chair. Even though his feet rested firmly on the ground, he felt like a kid again, sent to the principal's office at school with his legs dangling from an impossibly large grown-up chair. "Of course she does," he said softly. "I told her ages ago."

"And you still thought it would be acceptable to kiss her?" Hawkeye demanded.

He shrugged. "I told her almost a year ago. She's had plenty of time to write me off and she hasn't." Talking back to his Master was dangerous but he didn't care, caught up as he was in the kisses he had shared with Riza.

No doubt about it, Hawkeye was furious. His steady hands and soft voice belied the anger in his eyes as he removed something from his pocket. He set the paper on the table and slid it toward Roy. The folds and handwriting identified it as the very letter Riza had seen on the kitchen table. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought you would be angry, sir," Roy admitted, hanging his head. He had been right of course. The tension in the air was all the proof he needed of that. He had been stupid—so stupid to think Hawkeye wouldn't find out eventually. And of all the days for it to come out, it just had to have been this one. He thought of Riza all by herself downstairs, and he wished he could go to her. Not to kiss her again, but to comfort her. "What's going to happen now?"

"I want you to leave," Hawkeye said, still watching his apprentice with unblinking eyes.

"Tonight?" Rain pooled beneath a leak in the roof not far from his chair and Roy inched away from it nervously. "In this weather?"

"In the morning. You will take the first train." Hawkeye pushed back and stood to pace the room, occasionally glancing at his silent apprentice.

"What about my studies?" Roy asked. _What about Riza?_

"You have already mastered the basics. What more do you want me to do? Sit idly by while a soldier deflowers my only daughter?" Hawkeye gripped the edge of the table beside Roy and leaned into his face, eyes wild.

Roy squirmed in his chair. Kissing was one thing, but with their romance barely in its beginning stages, the idea of _deflowering_ her hadn't even crossed his mind apart from fantasies he had forced himself to ignore, and never in such archaic terms. "I would never _deflower_ he," he said. "I care for her, but that doesn't mean I can't control myself around her. _She's_ the one who kissed _me._ "

Unimpressed, Hawkeye dug his nails deeper into the wood. "It doesn't matter. And to think I once considered you worthy of my research."

"Sir, I—"

"I don't want excuses!" Hawkeye snapped. "It's fine if you want to throw your life away like trash, but you should at least think about what it will do to her."

Roy looked away, ashamed. Riza had made her distrust of soldiers perfectly clear, but she had never been anything but supportive of him, had always encouraged him to follow his dreams and change the things in the military that frightened her. He had always known he might die in the line of duty, but he had never given thought to the pain it would cause the girl he left behind. He had never dared to.

"If you love her," Hawkeye said, cutting into his thoughts, "then change your mind. But until then, I want you out of my sight and out of my daughter's life—I will not accept a soldier as a son. I don't want you writing to her and I will make certain the postman knows what to do with any letters you might send."

"You don't have to worry. I won't write if you don't want me to," he promised, the words sticking in his mouth. A wave of defiance rushed through him and he continued, "But don't you dare shut her out again. I can't bear to think of her being alone like that."

Hawkeye blanched. "You forget your place, boy," he snarled.

"And you've forgotten yours. You're her father. You're supposed to be there for her!" His hands shook with anger as he regarded the alchemist. Even if he refused to let Roy study anything more, he should at least let him stay to spend these last few weeks with Riza.

"Out!" Hawkeye jabbed a finger toward the door. "I don't want to see you again. Is that clear?"

"Crystal." Roy shoved his chair back and stood, marching stiffly toward the door. Without so much as a backward glance, he left the attic and stomped down to the landing. He returned to Riza's room where he found her curled up in a blanket, only her head and bare toes visible. She looked up, eyes brimming with concern.

"I heard shouting," she said softly as he crossed the room to sit beside her. She snuggled close, extending an arm to share her blanket.

Heart in his throat, Roy hugged her, wishing it was possible to convey all his love and concern for her through the gesture. "Your father—I mean—I—" He gulped, searching for the right words. "I have to leave tomorrow. First train out of town."

"I figured as much," she muttered, burrowing herself into his chest as though that could keep him at her side. "Did you at least tell him it was my fault?"

"He didn't care about us kissing," Roy said. "Well, he did, but only because he didn't want you to hurt when I left."

"I would have hurt when you left anyway," she squeaked. "But at least I have one less regret."

He could think of nothing to say in response. He had no desire to tell her the full extent of the conversation when she was already upset, so he kissed her instead. Her lips trembled under his as though she might cry, and sure enough, as soon as he tangled his hands in her hair, his cheeks were wet. Though, he wasn't entirely sure that any of the tears were hers. "I'll be back," he promised, pulling away just enough to speak and drying his eyes with his sleeve. "I don't care what he says. I'll come back for you."

They stayed together, wrapped in Riza's blanket until the room started to grow dark. With the storm still howling outside, Roy couldn't tell what time it was, but from the growling in his stomach, he supposed it was late evening. Exhausted and miserable, he disentangled himself from Riza.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To pack," he said. "You can come if you like."

Ever his shadow, Riza slipped off the bed and followed him across the hall, still cloaked in her blanket. As boring as it must be to watch someone stuff clothing and papers into a suitcase, he was grateful she had decided to accompany him. This time tomorrow, he would be long gone, her face little more than a memory until long into an uncertain future. He looked at her over his shoulder as he opened a dresser drawer. Her chin rested on her knees as she sat on the bed beside his open suitcase and watched him. She looked more miserable than he had ever seen her. He carried the contents of the drawer over and packed them neatly before returning his attention to her.

"It's going to be alright," he assured her, though he hardly believed it himself. He stroked her hair gently for a moment before bringing his hand to rest on her cheek. She clasped it with her own, clinging to him as though it would keep him here. And he couldn't deny that he was tempted, no matter what her father might do to him.

Her brown eyes threatened tears, but she blinked them away. "Don't lie to me," she said. "Don't you dare lie to me. You promised." She choked on the last word and bit her lip. And there was nothing he could do to ease her pain.

"I didn't say it was going to be alright right now," he said. "But you're my best friend and I swear to you we'll be together again."

She swallowed hard and nodded and Christmas's invitation swam to the front of Roy's mind. He could offer again—surely she would say yes when the only other option was goodbye. He could take her with him and they could spend the next two months together in Central. Maybe she would even decide to stay, and he could see her on breaks. But her father would never allow it. He would be furious if he even found out Roy had suggested such a thing. And Riza—how could he hurt her by giving her false hope?

"It's like you said," he assured her, pressing his lips to the top of her head. "If two people want to be together…"

"They should be," she finished in a hollow voice. "But should doesn't mean will."

Roy shook his head. "Maybe not, but it can for us. See this?" He removed a photograph from an inner compartment of his suitcase and held it up. The two of them smiled out of the glossy picture he had packed for safekeeping long ago. Instead of cheering her, it brought her to the brink of tears again. "I'm going to take it with me, so if anyone asks if I have a girl back home, I can show them."

"Don't do that," she admonished, wiping her face with her free hand even though it was dry. "It's bad luck."

He smiled for the first time since Hawkeye had cut his apprenticeship short. "I won't brag about you to everyone, then. I'll keep this for myself in case missing you gets too painful."

"And I'll keep my photo too," she promised, squeezing the hand on her cheek. "Now hurry and finish packing so you don't have to do it in the morning."

He nodded. "I should probably check the entire house. It seems like leaving my belongings lying out is what got us into this mess in the first place."

"I think your coat is still in the closet downstairs," she said, closing her eyes as though trying to remember the location of each article of clothing he owned. "We did the laundry yesterday, so that should already be here. And the books all belong to my father."

He returned the photograph to its place and tucked his research notes carefully into the suitcase as well. He had memorized most of them by now, but since they were all painstakingly coded, he didn't see the harm in keeping them. At least he would be able to look back at the code he and Riza had shared.

Once everything was crammed into his suitcase apart from his pajamas and the clothes he intended to wear the next day—including the coat that didn't seem to fit, no matter how he folded everything else—he moved the suitcase onto the floor and flopped onto the bed beside Riza, who uncurled herself to lie next to him. "Are you hungry yet?" she asked, nestling in the crook of his arm.

"Not anymore," he said. "But if you want dinner, I'll help."

She shook her head against his chest. "I don't have much of an appetite either." Wiggling slightly, she pushed herself up so their faces were level and leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose. "But you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, and you need your strength."

"Thanks, Christmas," he grumbled, giving her arm a playful shove. "I guess I'd have to be pretty dumb to turn down one of the last chances I'll have to eat your cooking."

She shoved him back. "My cooking? You said you'd help," she complained.

"That I did," he said, "but you're still the mastermind."

"The mastermind, huh? I'll be sure to remember you said that when you're a famous State Alchemist," she said, kissing him again.

Another roll of thunder cut through the rain and she flinched, cuddling closer to him as her entire body trembled. "Riza," he said gently.

"I'm not afraid of storms," she said, and this time, he recognized the words as a mantra. "I'm not afraid of storms."

"It's okay if you are," he assured her. "You told me you've been trapped in them before and you have every right to—"

"That's not why," she whimpered, shrinking down and burying her face under his arm. "Bad things always happen when there's thunder. If there hadn't been a storm, I would have been here when she died. I could have said goodbye." The last word came out as a squeak and Roy rolled onto his side to engulf her in his arms.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair. "That's so much worse than anything I could have imagined."

A flash of lightning illuminated the room and he clutched her tighter, as though he could shield her from it. As soon as the thunder cracked, she poked her head up to meet his eyes. "I wish you could do this through dinner."

"I could," he offered. "Or I could just stand by, waiting to hold you whenever more lightning strikes."

"I suppose we could try. Would you come to the cellar with me first?"

"Of course. If you can brave a thunderstorm, I can handle the rats."

They disentangled themselves from each other and stood, hands laced tightly together as they made their way downstairs. Riza opened the door to the cellar, reaching forward into the dark to grab at the string hanging from a bare light bulb on the ceiling. Roy could just barely make out the skittering sound of small feet over gravel over the rain and he moved instinctively closer to her, half a step behind as though she could shield him. Her fingers slipped away from his as she turned to descend the ladder, skipping the last two rungs to drop gracefully to the floor. He followed, trying to ignore his nerves as each step brought him closer to the sound of the despised rodents. Hesitating on the last rung, he felt a gentle hand at the small of his back and extended a single bare foot to the ground. The round gravel rolled beneath his feet, even more uncomfortable than it looked. He was, after all, a city boy through and through, as Riza sometimes felt the need to point out.

She took his hand again as he let go of the ladder, squeezing it and flashing him a reassuring smile—the first he had seen since her father had appeared in her room. "I've got you," she said, leading the way toward the wine rack.

"There's no one I'd rather have protecting me," he said, returning her smile.

With her free hand, she reached up to pluck a bottle from its slot and tucked it under her arm. "There. Now we can get out of here."

Roy scrambled up the ladder first then he reached down to take the bottle from Riza as she climbed. Lightning flashed outside the window along with a sharp clap of thunder, but she gritted her teeth and hoisted herself up to stand beside him. He pulled her into his arms and she winced as the bottle smacked against her. "I'm sorry," he said. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Just be careful," she said, rubbing her back. "And I'll take that." Holding out a hand for the bottle, she opened and closed her fingers expectantly.

Feeling terrible, he held it out and she snatched it away. "I could kiss it better," he offered.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Because your father would appear out of nowhere to kick me out into the storm?" he teased, resting an arm on her shoulder. "Or because you'd do it yourself?"

"Tempting, but no. I just don't want you to think you can get away with kissing me anywhere you please." She ducked away and headed toward the kitchen with Roy at her heels.

"What are you talking about? I have only the purest thoughts about you," he insisted.

"Wipe that grin off your face," she said, coming to a halt and turning to confirm the accuracy of her statement. "I seem to recall you needed my skirt to hide something from my father."

He scowled at her, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "That wasn't a thought. It was a physiological reaction, and I would have thought the girl who got the highest score in the class on her biology final would know that."

With arms behind her back, she leaned forward on her toes until her nose touched his. "I don't _mind._ As long as they _stay_ thoughts, you hear." Her free hand came between them to poke him gently in the stomach as she sank back to her feet. Turning on heel, she went into the kitchen with her skirt twisting around her legs.

"You'd better keep your thoughts just thoughts too," he shot back.

"What thoughts?" she asked innocently, looking at him over her shoulder as she bent down to retrieve a frying pan from the cupboard beside the stove.

He made a face at her back as she stood. "I've seen the books you read. Absolutely filthy, some of them."

"And of course you only know that because you've read them yourself," she countered.

With a noncommittal grunt, he heaved himself onto the counter. She would only tease him if she knew he hadn't been able to get more than a few chapters into any of them. Awful prose aside, he had been certain his face would melt off in embarrassment. And he knew every single one of the women he cared about would make his life miserable if they knew he was that nervous about smut. Maybe Riza would be kinder than his aunt or his sisters, but he had a nasty feeling she would never let him live it down. He could almost see them on their wedding night—if he could ever be so lucky—and her asking if he was really okay with it or if she should just change in the bathroom and get some sleep.

She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. "I'm not making fun of you for it, you know," she said gently, as though reading his mind. "You don't have to sulk."

"Then cheer me up," he said and he slipped off the counter and pulled her into his arms. Their foreheads touched as he leaned in to kiss her. Riza's lips parted eagerly and she sighed into his mouth, pressing her body against his. He moved one hand up to fist it in her short hair. His heart beat wildly as he dared poke his tongue past her lips until it brushed against hers. She gave a small grunt of surprise but didn't pull away; instead, she swirled her tongue around his as their lips moved together.

When they broke apart, Roy looked at her longingly for a few moments, waiting—hoping—for another kiss. But it didn't come. She turned away and lifted the bottle. "You decide what you want to eat. I'll take this upstairs to Father."

"Are you sure that's safe?" Roy said, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"Better me than you." She ducked away, darting from the kitchen before he had a chance to stop her.

Roy listened to her footsteps on the stairs as he pulled the last fish from the icebox. It was possible Hawkeye might have calmed down by now, and even if he hadn't, he probably wouldn't take out his anger on Riza, but that didn't stop Roy from worrying about her. He dropped the fish onto a cutting board for her to season, washed his hands, then leaned against the counter to wait for her return.

Several minutes passed before she stepped through the doorway empty handed. She went straight to the spice cabinet without a word.

"Hey, are you alright?" Roy asked. He placed a hand on her elbow as she seasoned their dinner.

Riza looked up in surprise but didn't pull away. "Yeah, I'm just fine," she said. "Absolutely perfect."

"I know, I know. It was a stupid question," he said, wrapped his arm around her shoulders instead. "He wasn't still angry, was he?"

"Of course he was," she said. Without another word, she tipped the fish into a frying pan with a bit of butter and turned on the stove.

Roy held her closer. "At you?"

"No, just you."

"Are you mad at me too?"

He felt her stiffen and let her go; she turned around to face him, confusion written across her weary face. "Why would I be mad?" she asked.

"I don't know. Something he said, maybe? Or because I'm leaving? I just thought—" He stopped himself, realizing that he had it all wrong. He knew her better than that. Just because she was being terse with him didn't mean she was angry; she was closing herself off little by little so it wouldn't hurt as much to say goodbye.

Riza placed a hand on his chest and patted it gently. "You worry too much," she said.

"Look who's talking," he teased, but for once she didn't even crack a smile. "And I guess I shouldn't be."

"No, no, please don't stop. After tomorrow, I don't know when I'll get to hear your voice again," she said. Still looking at him over her shoulder, she turned to check on the fish. A brief glance told her to flip it, but when she returned her attention to him, Roy remained silent.

There was nothing else to say for the moment; all the thoughts that remained were wishes for more time and giving voice to those would do nothing to cheer her the way he wanted to. The way she deserved.

"I won't get to hear your voice again either," he said at last as she served the food onto three plates. "Would you sing for me one last time?"

"Maybe after dinner," she said.

Her father's plate went upstairs faster than the wine, but when she returned, the meal passed with a gloomy silence. The two friends picked at their food, more interested in watching each other than eating. It wasn't until his knee brushed against hers under the table that either of them made a sound. Riza bumped her leg into his, giggling quietly.

In response, Roy stretched out his foot until his toes found hers, the way he had seen couples do in the bar when they were just intoxicated enough to forget they weren't alone. Riza laughed harder at this, nearly choking on the fish she had just put in her mouth.

"You don't have to stop," she wheezed, reaching for a glass of water. "You just caught me by surprise, is all."

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises." Although, at the moment, he couldn't think of any that didn't involve kisses she probably wouldn't want with her mouth full of food again.

After dinner, their routine of washing dishes passed far too quickly. Once, Roy had loathed the chore. For a horrible month in his childhood, he had had to do all of them by himself for a week after joking that it was women's work. Between Christmas, his sisters, he had learned better than to think things like that, and with Riza's help, he had actually come to enjoy sharing her chores. It certainly made him feel more useful than sitting around, and even after nearly a year, she always seemed so grateful to have help.

Her hand slipped into his as they headed upstairs again, both exhausted by the day's events. They didn't even let go to brush their teeth, and Roy watched their intertwined fingers in the mirror until they left the bathroom. He knew better than to ask for a song now, so he kissed Riza's drooping eyelids instead. "Goodnight," he told her as they stood in the hall between their rooms.

"Goodnight," she said. Her lips found his and she gave him a chaste kiss before pulling away to yawn. As she turned her head, he hugged her tightly, peppering kisses up and down her cheek.

"I don't want to leave," he said.

Riza forced a smile. "I know. But you need to get some sleep." For a moment, she returned his embrace, but in the end, she slipped out of his arms and into her bedroom.

The two steps to his own door were incredibly lonely, and the sight of his suitcase on the bed when he flicked on the light was too much to bear. He crossed the room to shove it onto the floor, switched on the lamp, and tugged his pants off. His pajamas were already packed, but it was too stuffy in the room for them anyway. He pulled off his shirt as well. When he went to turn off the lights, he chanced a peek out into the hall, but Riza's door remained closed and he slunk back to the bed sadly.

He tugged the sheet up to his chin as he closed his eyes, but he felt more awake than he had all day. There was still so much he didn't know about Riza, so much he wanted to say to her but he didn't quite know how. His mind kept whispering that that's what letters were for until he wanted to shout at it to be quiet because Hawkeye had forbidden him to write.

Hours passed slowly—on one side and then the other, on his back and stomach too. He was about to get up to see if, by some chance, Riza was still awake when he heard a knock. "Come in," he said, sitting up to switch on the lamp.

She opened the door, closed it quietly, and raced to the bed, placing her pillow beside his before curling up under the sheet.

"You couldn't sleep either, huh?" he asked, rubbing her shoulder affectionately.

She shook her head. "I'm not sure how I expected to, honestly."

"Me too," he said. "Maybe it'll be easier if we're together." He turned off the lamp, temporarily blinded by the darkness, but he could hear Riza's breathing even above the rain and he settled next to her, engulfing her in his arms.

For a few seconds, it seemed as though she had already fallen asleep, but then he could hear her voice again, singing softly in a language he half-recognized from some of his readings. When she finished, she buried her face in the pillow.

"What did it mean?" he asked.

"The song? I'm not sure. They sang it at my mother's funeral. The choir. Father told me it meant something about deliverance from death, but to me it's always meant goodbye," she explained.

Roy swallowed hard. "I hope it's not that kind of goodbye."

"It was a church choir, so even though I've never thought it possible, I assumed they meant it as a goodbye for now, but someday we'll meet again song," Riza said. "And we will, you and me. No matter what."

He knew better than to complain about the length of time that might stretch between tomorrow and the next time they saw each other, so he nodded instead. Even though he couldn't really see her in the dark, he guessed where he thought her lips might be and leaned in for a kiss. This one was anything but chaste, even though the lump in his throat returned when he felt Riza's mouth against his. He tried to swallow it down without her noticing, tried to force all thoughts of the morning to the back of his mind to focus only on the way it felt to hold her here and now, but all too soon, the kiss was over, and the night as well.


	28. The Morning After

As he opened his eyes, Roy half-expected the bed to be empty. Surely the legs tangled with his were a figment of his imagination; the cloth against his bare chest was just a sheet, not Riza's nightgown. But there she was, still sleeping peacefully. He ran his fingers gently over her hair, causing her to stir, but rather than waking, she only snuggled closer to him. "Wake up, sleepyhead," he said before planting a kiss on her forehead.

"But if I wake up, you have to go," she murmured in a scratchy voice. Her toes curled and uncurled against his leg.

"I have to go anyway. If you get up, you get to say goodbye."

She tightened her arms around him. "It's not fair. Maybe if I just talked to Father, he'd—"

"You know he wouldn't change his mind," Roy said sadly. In truth, he wanted to cling to her as well, but he was awake now, and this wasn't the time to dream. No amount of begging from Riza would convince Hawkeye to reconsider, not when he felt she deserved better than the likes of Roy. And in truth, there was a part of him that agreed with the stubborn old alchemist. Riza deserved someone who would stick with her through everything instead of leaving her in this place.

"He might listen to me," she said, but she didn't sound as convinced this time around.

With a lump forming in his throat, Roy gave in; he pulled her closer, hugged her until he was absolutely certain he would miss the train if he didn't get up immediately. He still had to shower—and eat, if he found his appetite. Even if he didn't, he had a feeling Riza would try to stuff at least a few bites of scrambled eggs in his mouth. So when he let her go, kicked the sheets off, and sat up, he smiled at her.

"I'll be back soon," he said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

She blinked in confusion then propped herself up on one elbow. "Soon? But I thought…"

"Shower," he explained. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and picked up the clothes he had laid out the night before. One last look over his shoulder told him that Riza had moved her head to his pillow, but he forced the image out of his head as he left the room. The last thing he needed was to dwell on the hope that someday, that would be the sight he woke up to every morning: droopy brown eyes, disheveled blonde hair, and his best friend still half asleep in his arms.

The shower didn't do much to ease his heartache. Even his towel—that stupid pink towel Riza had given him—made him feel as though someone had punched him in the gut. At least with him gone, she could use it instead of the ratty one that still hung on the rack. Assuming, of course, that Hawkeye didn't replace him as soon as he got on the train. Riza had said she would talk him out of it, but the thought still bothered Roy.

He hung the towel neatly beside Riza's, dressed, and returned to his room to find it empty. The bed was made and his suitcase sat on top of the blanket, open for him to pack his laundry. _That girl really does think of everything._ When he had finished packing, he took a final look around the room and noticed a stray pen on the desk. An idea struck him, sending him over to sit in the familiar chair. He pulled a sheet of paper from the top drawer and began to write, scribbling out what started as a short note and ended as a two-page letter. He hadn't even bothered with their code; there wasn't enough time. Just in case she didn't check his room after he left, he snuck into hers and placed the folded pages on her nightstand. With her name printed on the outside, he was certain she would notice it.

Downstairs, he left his suitcase and coat by the door before heading into the kitchen. The table was already set and Riza sat at her usual place with her head buried in her arms. She looked up when she heard him sit, forcing a smile.

"So you decided to eat after all," she said in a flat voice. He suspected she was teasing him, but her tone sucked all the humor out of the statement.

He nodded. "I'd rather eat with you than on the train, even if I'm not hungry."

"Thank you." She picked at her food without saying another word. It was as though the frantic energy that had possessed her last night had vanished with the storm; maybe she was just tired, but he suspected the previous day had taken a lot out of her. After all, it had drained him as well, and now that the giddiness had worn off, he felt the reality of his departure even more sharply.

When they finished eating, Riza found her voice again. "Leave the dishes," she said. "You'll miss the train if we wash them now."

"But then you'll have to do them all by yourself," he said, placing his fork and glass on the plate.

She dragged the plate across the table before he could pick it up. "I might as well get used to it. I'm going to be doing everything by myself again anyway."

As if he didn't feel terrible enough about leaving, the thought of Riza coming home to this made him seriously consider spending the next six weeks living in her treehouse so he could sneak into the house to do her chores every night. But he was leaving to become a soldier, and what kind of soldier would he be if he couldn't follow orders? Reluctantly, he followed Riza to the front door. He folded his coat over his arm before lifting the suitcase and Riza opened the door.

Their free hands found each other as the pair stepped outside. The storm had blown over completely, leaving only a few puffy clouds in the dark blue sky; the road had turned to mud that squelched unpleasantly beneath their feet as they stepped around puddles.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" he said.

"I suppose so."

He gripped her hand tighter, wishing he could do more, but he lacked the words to comfort her, so they continued in silence all the way to the village, where he was grateful for the strangers who passed them in the streets. At least their chatter drowned out his thoughts, if only a little.

At the station, he purchased a ticket to Central then pocketed just enough of his money to buy two meals on the train. He gave the rest to Riza.

"I can't take this," she said, holding out the bills he had pressed into her hands.

"Consider it an early birthday present," he said. "Since I won't be able to celebrate it with you this year."

Carefully, she counted the money. "Roy, this is worth more than every present I've ever gotten combined."

"And how many presents have you gotten since your mother died?" He mussed her hair affectionately before cupping her cheek, rubbing it with his thumb until she pulled away.

"Please, not here," she begged. At least she kept the money; when she stepped back from Roy, he saw her slip it into a pocket of the apron she had forgotten to remove when they left the house.

It seemed there was nothing more to do, but the clock at the ticket booth showed that they still had ten minutes before the train left, so he guided Riza to the end of the platform. "How about here?" he asked, but when he leaned in for a kiss goodbye, she turned away.

"No," she said. "We're still in public."

He saw no point in pressing the issue, so he tried to smile instead. It came easier than he thought it would. "Next time I see you, then. I owe you a kiss."

Her head bobbed slightly, but she didn't return his smile. "You should go before the train leaves without you."

"Right. Take care of yourself, Riza," he said.

"You too." She looked over his shoulder for a moment before wrapping her arms around him. "Thanks for everything."

He dropped his suitcase to return the hug, holding her tight as he lifted her off the ground. "I'm gonna miss you," he said when he let her go.

"Me too."

The suitcase felt heavier when he lifted it again, but Riza's fingers laced through his gave him the strength to carry it to the train. He started up the stairs, letting his arm stretch out until only their fingertips touched. He found a seat by the window and leaned out to wave goodbye, since the lump in his throat had grown too large for words.

Riza lifted her hand as well, waved it until the station shrank in the distance; when he could no longer see her, he sank onto the bench, cradling his head in his hands. In two months, he would be at the academy, but he didn't have to be a soldier just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! The next one will be longer, I promise. Thanks for sticking with me!


	29. Memories

Chapter 29: Memories

Riza Hawkeye was no stranger to longing. As she stood on the edge of the platform, watching until the train disappeared into the mountains, her fingers closed around the money in her pocket. She hadn't bothered counting it, but she could tell there was more than enough for her to afford a ticket to Central. It wouldn't be hard to find the bar, to find Roy. But no matter how much her heart wanted to follow him, she knew she could never abandon her father. He needed her more than Roy did.

With nothing left for her at the station, she left, hurrying through the streets even though she knew no one would stop her to chat. A few wildflowers still dotted the hillside and the bright yellow blossoms called her from the road. She picked two dozen before heading into the cemetery. Her mother's grave stood between headstones surrounded by purchased flowers Riza would never be able to afford, making her own offering look pathetic by comparison. Hot tears stung the corners of her eyes but she refused to let them fall as she knelt to weave the stems together. "I miss you," she said in a pinched voice. "I need you."

Not even the wind answered her childish plea. The summer air remained still and silent and Riza added another flower to the chain. Once, she could have raced home into her mother's arms, could have sobbed while Emily Hawkeye stroked her hair and sang a lullaby, but those days were long gone now, and missing her hurt worse than any sprained ankle or broken arm ever had.

Riza tied the ends of the chain together and hung it gently from the headstone. It wasn't much, but somehow she felt a little less lonely for having visited her mother. After yesterday's storm, the old pain had resurfaced, leaving her as helpless and fearful as she had been as a six-year-old girl trapped in the school while she waited for the rain to stop so she could go stand vigil at her mother's bedside. But in the end, it wouldn't have mattered if she had caught a cold, and the lightning had been over the mountains anyway. Still, when she had raced upstairs to see her mother, Riza had felt the electricity strike her all the same.

She almost felt it again, standing before the grave. Her legs had fallen asleep while she tied flower stems, and now she could barely walk. The pins and needles that shot down to her feet made it difficult to walk. Trying not to wince, she made her way out of the cemetery and onto the road, where she started to feel a little better. A breeze swirled past her, wrapping her skirt around her legs and cutting through her clothes like a reminder of yesterday's storm. She shivered slightly, hugged herself against the sudden chill. At least the sun was out, even if it wasn't much higher than the mountains yet.

The lump in her throat grew as she walked, and by the time she reached the house, she had no desire to go inside. Instead, she raced off into the woods, letting the tears come for the first time now that she knew she was alone. Running and crying left her gasping for breath, but she forced herself to continue until she reached the tree house.

Riza sat on one of the cushions, tucking her legs up against her chest. Tears dripped from her chin to her knees and she bit her lip until she could taste blood. When she finally let go, the noise startled her; she hadn't cried like this in so many years that she had almost forgotten how. The gasping, choking sobs came sporadically at first but grew steady as she allowed her emotions to take over. It was frightening at first—Riza wasn't used to letting go like this, even after months of laughing with Roy. But in spite of her heartache, she felt a sense of relief. At least she was still able to cry.

 

* * *

 

 

Her father's face looked almost grey as she took a careful step into the room. "Is mother—is she alright?"

"She's dead, Riza." Berthold Hawkeye's voice sounded hollow, but he didn't seem close to tears. His cheeks were dry and his eyes seemed fixed on the air between them.

"She can't—she said she was getting better! Why would she lie, Papa? Why would she—?" Riza choked on the end of her sentence, wiped her eyes on her arm as the first of her tears started to fall. Her mother had always been there to comfort her when she cried, no matter how silly a thing she was crying over: a stubbed toe, a broken egg beneath a robin's nest, the first time someone had called her a mean name at the park. Emily Hawkeye had pulled Riza into her arms every single time, stroking her hair and whispering soothing words until the tears stopped.

* * *

 

Now Riza was left alone to sob as her father pushed past her on his way out of the room. She stumbled forward to the bed, to the body that was still warm. To the woman who had fixed her braid and kissed her goodbye just that morning. Thunder cracked outside; the storm had returned, even though her mother never would. Riza yelped at the sound, at the reminder of why she hadn't made it in time. Squeezing her mother's hand tighter, she lifted it to her face. She half-expected to feel the fingers brush away the tears that trickled down her cheeks.

Riza hugged her legs to her chest and her fingernails dug into her skin. She wanted them both here right now, and after all the years she had spent trying so hard to grow up, she deserved one morning of childish wishing. The two of them would hug her and make her laugh until she couldn't even remember how it felt to want to cry, and she just knew they would get along perfectly. And maybe her father would laugh again too. She didn't think she had even seen him smile since before her mother had gotten sick, but it didn't hurt to imagine the four of them spending the summer together. In fact, she wanted to live inside that dream where she hadn't spent so many years alone, where her mother had insisted on letting Roy stay until the very last minute. She would've baked cookies with them no matter how tired she was after work and made Roy laugh so hard that the milk went up his nose.

It was only when the daydream ended that it started to hurt. A second wave of tears came and she continued crying long after they had run dry. Her throat stung as she looked up but she still wasn't ready to go home. The air in the tree house had turned hot and stuffy so she moved to open the trapdoor only to see her father's face staring up at her.

"Riza," he said.

"What do you want, father?" she asked, not even trying to hide the bitterness in her voice.

Hawkeye pulled himself up the next few rungs until his chin was level with the floor. "Have you been here all day?"

"No," she said. "I saw Roy off at the station this morning."

His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't sound angry when he spoke. "Come home. You can't spend the rest of your life up in this tree."

If she had been brave, she might have asked why he was allowed to spend all his time sulking in the attic and obsessing over his research. But Riza wasn't brave. She had proven that already by not demanding that he let Roy stay instead of letting his temper get the better of him. So instead, she said, "Yes, Father." Her entire body felt stiff but she followed him down anyway, stumbling slightly when she hit the ground.

Riza lagged behind her father, not really in the mood to talk. That seemed to suit him just fine, judging by his silence. He didn't say anything until they were nearly home.

"I almost thought you'd run away with him." He stopped and turned to look at her, and she froze, unable to meet his gaze.

"You know I could never do something like that," she mumbled.

He shook his head. "I doubt that very much. You are your mother's daughter, after all."

"Mother never would have done something like that," Riza said, but she regretted it as soon as she said it. After all, she didn't know much of anything about her parents' past. She had never thought to ask why relatives never came to visit, but she had also never thought of her mother as the type to run away from her responsibilities. She had worked right up until she got too sick to leave her bed.

Hawkeye merely grunted in response. Or maybe it was a laugh and he had just forgotten how. Before Roy came along, Riza had thought she might have as well.

Once they reached the house, Riza stopped just inside the backdoor. The dishes were no longer stacked on the table, and even though she couldn't quite see, she didn't think they were in the sink either. A twinge of guilt made her look down at her feet, but her father didn't say anything about it, only stood in the doorway of the dining room.

"Aren't you going to have lunch with me?" he asked.

Startled, she looked up again. "With you? I thought you preferred to eat alone."

"I do," he admitted. "But since I can't have you running off again, I think it's best if we eat together."

"I'm not hungry," she said. And even if she was, she doubted she'd have much more of an appetite than she'd had earlier.

"Starving yourself won't change my mind, Riza," Hawkeye said in a sharper tone. "You would be wise to put that boy out of your mind entirely."

She frowned at the sandwich on the table before lifting it to her mouth. The bread had dried out while he was out looking for her, but at least he had tried. It was more than he had done for her in years. "Just because he can't write to me doesn't mean I can't still write to him," she said once she had swallowed.

* * *

 

Riza tugged at the collar of her itchy black dress. The longer she wore it, the tighter it felt, and crying didn't make it feel any better. It made her throat feel like something was stuck in it and her dress was trying to choke her even more. She let out a quiet sob and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, even though it was already wet.

"Don't cry, Riza," her father whispered. "You're a big girl now."

"Yes, Pa—Father." Big girls probably didn't say "papa" either. She couldn't stop the tears from running down her cheeks, but she managed to get through the rest of the funeral without making a sound.

* * *

 

When she finished eating, Riza excused herself from the table and went out into the backyard to climb the apple tree the way she had that day, when she had been too small and too afraid to find the treehouse by herself. She had been able to cry there, with the noise of leaves in the wind to muffle her sobs. But today, she was too exhausted to cry any more than she already had.

She sat with one leg dangling, her shoe balanced on the tips of her toes. The fresh summer air swirled around her—the closest thing to an embrace she expected to feel for a long time—and she let the shoe fall to the ground. Steading herself against the branch, she moved to straddle it, tipping her foot until the other shoe came off as well. A smile came to her lips as she wiggled her bare toes; for a moment, she convinced herself that she wasn't really that lonely. Maybe her father's sympathy would last longer than just one afternoon. Maybe it was more than guilt at isolating her that had sent him into the woods to find her.

And maybe Roy Mustang would get off the train in East City, steal a horse, and ride all the way back here to take her away. That idea was no more childish than the others. If her father hadn't done anything about improving her situation after finding out the only thing that kept Riza's reputation of a freak at bay was his wife's position as a nurse at the village clinic, then he certainly wouldn't do anything about it now.

The sky was nearly dark when Riza finally hopped down from the tree, falling on her hands when her legs buckled from sitting for so long. She gathered her shoes and walked back to the house. Inside, she made enough toast that she feared the stack would topple before she could carry it to the table. Her appetite still hadn't made a reappearance, but she knew better than to let herself go hungry. She knew she would regret it in the morning.

Once she had eaten, she went upstairs to get ready for bed. Roy had left his toothbrush behind and she tried to laugh, but it didn't come out right. A few bristles fell out of her own when she squeezed toothpaste onto it and the crack in the handle seemed longer than she remembered. Maybe he had left his on purpose. After rinsing her mouth, she threw the ratty old brush away. She washed her face and went to her room. Before she even turned on the light, she could feel eyes watching her from the photographs on the nightstand and she knew if she saw them, she would start crying again. Averting her gaze, she flicked the switch and dashed to the closet to get her nightgown. She changed with her back to the rest of the room and ran out as quickly as she had come in.

Roy's room put her much more at ease, even though it was empty apart from the furniture. It still smelled a little like him, but she found that strangely comforting. She climbed into bed and buried her face in his pillow, wishing she could pretend for just one night that her best friend was still with her.


	30. Postscript

Summer days faded together as Riza fell into a routine of chores and hunting. She had grown accustomed to sleeping in the extra bedroom, even though all signs that Roy had ever stayed there were gone now and the closet was filled with her own clothes. As she made the bed one morning, she remembered just how drafty her room got in the winter and wondered if a permanent move was in order. After all, when she had dared ask her father if he planned to take on another apprentice, he had looked at her as though she had asked him to pack up and move to Drachma, so it wasn't as if she had any competition.

After a shower, Riza started with her nightstand: lifting the two framed photographs carefully at first and nearly dropping them in surprise when she noticed the letter. Over a month had passed since Roy's departure, and she hadn't bothered to spend enough time in her room to find the folded pages. She sat on the bed to read it. Her heart raced as carefully unfolded the pages, noticing that there were two, and she tried to remember his voice as she read. The messy penmanship made her smile even as the words themselves made fresh the heartache she had been trying so valiantly to ignore. He missed her already, even though she was downstairs making breakfast. He thought her hair looked like sunlight and that her laugher was the most beautiful sound. ("Don't stop laughing just because you're lonely. Try to remember that time we went ice skating and I fell on my ass. That should help.") And of course, he planned to tell the girls all about her, so she'd already be part of the family by the time they met.

By the time she reached the second page, Riza felt as though she was going to cry again. Her throat ached and her eyes stung but she refused to let a sound or a tear escape her. She read the last paragraph over again several times: the one about how he couldn't wait for them to be older so they could be together in Central. Whether or not he meant it as a romantic proposal, Riza decided right then that, even if she met another nice boy before they were reunited, she would wait until she saw Roy again to pursue another relationship. She owed him a kiss, after all, and she was very eager to give it.

Her heart fluttered as she read the next line: "Love, Roy." While Riza had never gotten a letter before, she knew from school and books that it was a standard way to end them, but he still could have chosen another closing. "Your friend," perhaps. Or "sincerely." Still giddy, she checked the postscript. He wanted her to write to him! And since he was still at Christmas's, he would still get it if she sent it soon. The address was even scribbled in across the last bit of space on the page in case her father had destroyed the envelope Roy had left on the kitchen table, which he probably had. Riza hadn't seen it since that stormy night.

Immediately, she went to the desk where she found a sheet of paper, but everything she wanted to say disappeared as soon as she uncapped a pen. She couldn't smile through words, couldn't send him a hug in an envelope, and she wanted to give him both of those things more than she wanted to tell him about how bored she had been. After several minutes spent tapping her chin, she decided to thank him for his letter. After that, things came more easily. She was still talking to Roy, even if he couldn't reply.

Riza apologized for taking so long to write back, told him about the way her father had acted the night Roy had left. (And how he had kept his distance since then.) When she couldn't think of anything else to write about her life, she wrote down sections she had memorized from her favorite books and asked Roy if he had read them. One—the one she was rereading now—was about a soldier who went off to war only to learn that his love had died while he was away. She told him not to read it if he hadn't already.

When the letter was finished, she folded it and left her room to find her father coming down from the attic. She hid the folded papers behind her back but it was too late.

"What's that in your hand, Riza?" he asked.

She squeezed her fist tighter even though she knew it was futile. "It's nothing, Father."

"You're sending him a letter." He didn't sound angry or even particularly disappointed, but something about his words made Riza want to disappear.

"Yes, Father," she said, looking at her toes. "I miss him."

It wasn't like she expected a hug, but she desperately hoped he would give her one. She even knew that if he did, it wouldn't be as good as the ones Roy gave, but she missed hugs so much it didn't matter. Instead, however, Hawkeye turned away.

"Is that truly the life you want?" he asked. Something about his tone frightened her. When she didn't say anything, he continued, "Do you want to spend the rest of your life waiting for him? To come back from the academy, to come back from a war? Not all soldiers come back, Riza. And if, somehow, you are lucky enough to get him back, what makes you think you'll keep your sons too?"

Riza's hands began to shake and she shrank back into her doorway. "Father, I—" What would she say? That she loved Roy? She was still just a kid—a stupid kid who loved her friend but didn't know much more about love than that. A stupid kid who didn't know anything about the kind of love her father meant. Maybe he was right; maybe she would lose Roy, but even if she did, she decided she wouldn't lock herself up to sulk. She would keep going, keep working, and take care of whatever children she might have instead of leaving them to look after her.

She would not, however, say any of this to her father. It wasn't her place to question him, even if she didn't particularly feel it was his place to decide who she was allowed to write to. Or who was allowed to write to her, but since that was clearly final, and because she lacked the courage to stand up to him, she accepted it. She wouldn't see Roy again until she went to Central herself or until she asked him to come back and visit.

"You don't have to hide in your room. I'm not going to stop you from sending the letter," he said. "I only told you what I did so you could decide for yourself whether or not it was worth it."

It was worth it, she wanted to say. She couldn't just abandon her only friend just because he might die someday. If she did, then what kind of friend was she? "It's worth it," she whispered, and she stepped out into the hallway, marching past her father on the way downstairs. Without looking back, she put on her shoes and slung a bag over her shoulder.

A morning breeze ruffled her hair when she stepped outside, cool and comforting. Her spirits lifted somewhat as she walked. The warm summer air felt good in her lungs and the puffy clouds overhead looked like they had come right out of one of her childhood drawings. Her mother had teased once that clouds like that were made of cotton candy, but Riza had scowled and said they were made of water the same as any other clouds. Both her parents were scientists, so little Riza had been offended that her mother would think she was so easily fooled. But if someone back then had told her that her mother would get sick, Riza would have doubted it just the same and now that she was older, she found herself believing in all kinds of outlandish things. Maybe the future she found herself dreaming of was just another fantasy, but since she had so little else to cling to, she found herself dreaming of it all the same. She had mentioned that in her letter too: how much she looked forward to a future where soldiers didn't threaten children and she and Roy could work together to make the people around them happier.

* * *

 

Riza had never been in the attic before. Her father had never wanted her around to knock over a stack of books or step on an important paper. The first time she opened the door, a week after her mother's funeral, her hand shook around the doorknob. When she stepped inside, she felt tiny, even for a six-year-old. She felt a sense of wonder at the bookcases that reached all the way to the ceiling; she wanted to read them all.

"Aren't we going to have dinner, Father?" she asked.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Soon, Riza."

"But I'm hungry now!" She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "You didn't make lunch either."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have lost track of time like that." He looked up from his work for the first time. Pushing his chair back, he stood and walked over to Riza.

"Are we going to have dinner now?" she asked.

He pulled her into a tight hug. Father always gave the best hugs. "Yes, sweetheart. Of course we are."

Riza raced down the stairs, tugging her father's hand as he followed her. "Why do you spend so much time in the attic? Don't you get lonely?"

"Very lonely. I miss you almost as much as I miss your mother. Careful now, I don't want you to fall," he said, squeezing her fingers tighter as she skidded to a halt before hurrying down the next flight of stairs.

In the kitchen, Hawkeye helped Riza up onto the counter and she sat there patiently while he cooked. She kicked her feet against the cupboard. "You never told me why."

"Why what?"

"Why you're always in the attic," she said. How could he have forgotten?

"I'm researching something important," he said. "Something that will help everyone in Amestris."

Riza wrinkled her nose, confused. "But don't lots of people know about alchemy?"

"Not this kind."

While they ate, he told her about fire and she listened with such intent that she nearly forgot to eat. He told her that no one had ever figured out the secret to producing so much as a spark using alchemy, and that he would be the first. And later that night, after he had tucked her into bed and given her a kiss on the cheek, she had fallen asleep imagining a world where no one ever had to be cold again.

* * *

 

At last she understood why her father was so upset with Roy. The idealism that had made him the perfect friend for Riza had also made him the perfect apprentice. It must also be why her father seemed so betrayed by Roy's decision to join the military. Whatever hatred he felt for it, he must have hoped that Roy felt the same. At last, she had an idea of how to repair the bond between master and apprentice, and when she reached the post office, she borrowed a pen to scribble a promise to Roy that she would find a way to get her father to take him back one day.

After, she refolded the papers, bought an envelope and a stamp, and addressed the letter to Christmas's bar. Even though she knew it was futile, as she dropped the letter into box, she couldn't help but hope that he would write back.


	31. Sunlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait, everyone! I was unavoidably detained by a family reunion and had no time to work on this. As always, thanks to hawkeyedriza for betaing and to everyone else for reading!

Chapter 31: Sunlight

The first time Riza ran away in the middle of the night, she was only seven years old. The fire in the living room had reflected in her father's eyes, and for the first time, she had known there was something sinister about the man he had become in time since her mother's death. In the first week, he had been strict, but two months later, he was frighteningly absent. He hadn't even noticed when she slipped out the backdoor to live in her treehouse for a week. She had returned caked with dirt, hungry, and thirsty and he hadn't even asked where she'd been.

Nine years later, she had no such luck. The moment she stepped out of the yard, an attic window opened. "Riza!" His angry voice pierced her even from a distance and she almost dropped her gun.

Riza turned around to slink back to the house in response. Only the sounds of her soft footsteps through the grass and the chirping of crickets filled the silence. By the time, she managed to put her gun away, Berthold Hawkeye stood beside her.

"You tried to leave," he said.

"Sleeping deer are easier to shoot." It was probably the worst excuse she had made for herself in years, but it was better than admitting just how much being in the woods calmed her when she was nervous.

With a sigh, Hawkeye leaned against the counter. "You will be starting school tomorrow. Here, not in Central."

"I didn't plan to go to Central," she said. Was he drunk? It didn't seem likely. They had run out of spirits years ago and wine hardly affected him. "I just needed fresh air."

"You are allowed to open your bedroom window, you know," he said.

Riza looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. Was that supposed to be a joke? Or did he think she didn't know she could do as she pleased in the house? If only she had the guts to stand up for herself. Instead, she inclined her head. "I'm sorry, Father," she said meekly. "I'll stay inside at night."

"Good." Hawkeye turned his back to her. "The last thing I want is for you to come to harm."

Holding back a snort, Riza looked up at her father's hunched shoulders. She remembered his lecture from the night she had come back late with Roy, but this far from town, with the soldiers gone away to war, there was no one to hurt her out there. And with her gun, she'd be more than a match for them anyway. But for all her doubt, hearing him express concern made her feel happier than she had been in weeks, even counting the way she had felt the morning when she had discovered that the raspberries were finally ripe.

So why did she feel like crying at the same time? She knew it wasn't fair, knew that he had hurt her, but she wanted to cling to the idea that maybe he still loved her the way he had before her mother had died. Maybe if she just kept quiet about Roy for a while, he'd start to remember that she was all he had. As if that would be enough.

"I'm going to bed, Father. Do you need anything first?" she asked.

He didn't answer.

In the morning, Riza showered, dressed, and combed her hair. She combed it a second time after brushing her teeth just in case. August's heat had spilled over into September, and she dreaded the walk home even as she set out into the cool morning. At least she would have a new teacher this year, even if the stories she had heard were almost as awful as the ones about Mr. Thornwood. She was in no way religious, but as the church's steeple rose into view, she said a tiny prayer that someone would treat her kindly this year.

When Riza found her assigned classroom, the woman behind the desk was unfamiliar. The old teacher must have retired, leaving room for the young woman with hair as short as Riza's, though Riza's was much lighter.

"Hello," she said. "You're early."

"I'm sorry," Riza said. "I woke up early this morning."

"You don't have to apologize. What's your name?"

Riza's eyes widened. Did she really not know? "I'm Riza—Riza Hawkeye."

"That's a pretty name. I'm Nora Carlisle. Pleased to meet you, Riza." Ms. Carlisle held out a hand. After looking at it uncertainly for several seconds, Riza took it.

"Where are you from?" Riza asked, feeling a little bolder now.

"East City," she said. "I guess everyone around here knows everyone else, don't they? I hope you don't mind having an outsider teaching you."

For the first time since Roy had left, the laughter came easily. It was little more than a giggle, but at least she could tell Roy she hadn't forgotten after all. When Ms. Carlisle looked at her in surprise, she said, "I'm sorry. It's just—well, I'm an outsider too."

A few of Riza's classmates appeared in the door before Ms. Carlisle could ask what she meant. "Why don't we talk more after class?" she said before turning to greet her other students.

For the first time her mother's death, Riza picked a seat at the front of the classroom. She was used to sitting in the back corner, as far from the teacher and the window as possible, where she could blend into the shadows. Now, with sunlight falling across her desk and Ms. Carlisle's kind voice welcoming each student, Riza felt more at ease than she ever had in school. No one sat by her until the rest of the desks were full, but as soon as someone sank into the desk behind her, she felt something bounce off the back of her head.

Turning around in her seat, Riza saw a crumpled paper on the floor beside her. She bent down to pick it up and placed it on the desk before facing forward again.

The paper hit her again and this time, Ms. Carlisle noticed. "Isn't it a bit soon to be passing notes in class? I haven't even taken attendance yet." Her kind voice had a stern edge to it, and Riza was grateful when the pestering stopped.

Ms. Carlisle asked each student to give an introduction when she called their name but Riza's quiet answer didn't draw the usual murmurs from her classmates. Maybe all it took as a stranger for them to want to give a good impression. A stranger who had no connection to alchemy, that is.

The morning passed quickly after that. Riza tried to ignore her rumbling stomach as the lunch bell rang, pretending to fiddle with her pen until nearly everyone had left the classroom. Claire, the girl who sat behind Riza, bent down to hiss in her ear as she left: "How's your boyfriend, Hawkeye?"

Riza ignored her. It wasn't worth giving Claire the satisfaction of knowing just how much her words stung.

"So you aren't going to even try denying it this time?" Claire said, turning on heel when Riza didn't lash out at her. "I hope you did him before he left because you're never going to find a boy like that again. I'm surprised even that one wanted you."

With red creeping into her face, Riza bowed her head and pretended to search through her bag for lunch money. She wasn't sure what was worse: a rumor spreading that she wasn't a virgin, or the truth getting out that she was. When Claire didn't leave, Riza looked up. Chris had joined her. He had an arm around her waist and a cruel grin on his face. Of course the two of them had started dating over the summer. Of course they wanted to rub it in that she was all alone.

"How do you even know he's gone?" Riza asked, fighting to keep her voice steady.

"No one's seen the two of you together since June," Chris said. "It wasn't hard to figure out, but then, we're not alchemists, so you must think we're stupid."

Riza shook her head. "I never said anyone was—"

"Excuse me," Ms. Carlisle cut in. "Is there a problem here?"

"Not at all," Chris said respectfully. "We were just making sure our friend's ok. We'll go now." He guided Claire out of the classroom.

Once they were gone, Ms. Carlisle sat in the seat next to Riza's. "Would you like to eat with me?"

"I haven't got any lunch," Riza said. "But I'd love to sit with you if that's alright."

Ms. Carlisle looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before standing. She went to her desk and returned with a lunch sack. "Then I'll share. I don't want to see one of my students go hungry." Reaching into the sack, she removed a sandwich that was cut into two triangles. She handed one to Riza, who stared at it for several moments before taking a bite.

"Thank you for getting rid of them," Riza said once she had swallowed. "No one has ever done that before. Well, no one except Roy. Not even the Father. He always told me to forgive them. Must be some religious thing."

"The Father?" Ms. Carlisle looked confused. "And I suppose Roy is the one they were talking about? Did he move away?"

"The town preacher. And yes, that's Roy. He went back home to Central at the end of June," Riza said.

"He's not from here?"

"My father's an alchemist who wanted an apprentice. Roy wanted to learn, so he moved in last year. Father kicked him out when he found out he planned to enroll in the military academy this fall. He was my best friend." It felt nice to tell someone, even if she wasn't entirely sure she trusted Ms. Carlisle yet. The fact that she had chased off Claire and Chris certainly helped, but she was still afraid that would stop after a few weeks.

Ms. Carlisle finished her half of the sandwich, dusted the crumbs from her fingers, and smiled. "My brother is in the military too. He's in Ishval now. You must be worried about your friend."

"Every day," Riza admitted. "But not half as worried as you must be. If Roy was sent to Ishval, I don't know what I'd do. I hope your brother comes home soon."

"Thank you, Riza. I hope that your Roy never has to go."

The rest of the lunch period passed far too quickly. Riza learned that Ms. Carlisle had grown up in East City, the youngest of three children. Her parents and older sister were teachers as well, and they had encouraged her to take this job, even though they would have preferred to have her stay. She wanted to get out and see someplace new and this was the job she had found. Riza was grateful for that, even if she did feel Ms. Carlisle could have found someplace better. Anywhere was better than this.

When the bell rang, Ms. Carlisle returned to her desk, but she kept an eye on Riza as the rest of her students filed into the room. The first lesson of the afternoon was math. While the other students groaned and muttered under their breath that they didn't want to think about this on their first day back, Riza leaned forward, surprising everyone—especially herself—when her hand shot up for every question.

The sun blazed overhead, but Riza hardly felt its heat as she danced up the road. She felt like a child again—a child who had gotten every single trigonometry problem correct, but a child nonetheless. Her feet kicked up dust from the dry road; it swirled around her like the words that jumbled in her head. She knew Roy was long gone by now, but surely, surely Christmas would forward a letter if she sent one, and she just had to tell him about today.


	32. Research

Lunch with Ms. Carlisle quickly became Riza's favorite part of the day. In spite of Riza's protests, she always insisted on sharing her lunch, and Riza started to bring jars of her homemade jam in exchange. Ms. Carlisle's initial hesitance at accepting something in return disappeared as soon as Riza made her taste the jam. Her eyes lit up and she immediately forgot what it was she had been saying about how important it was to her that all her students were well-cared for. Riza was just happy to finally have someone who could enjoy her jam without glaring at her—apart from Roy, of course. Today's lunch had been especially wonderful: she had been given her own slice of chocolate cake in addition to the usual sandwich.

Her time at home, however, was even worse than it had been before Roy came. Most nights, she smelled smoke as she tossed and turned and covered her head with a pillow to block it out. She and her father hardly spoke during the day even though they took their meals together regularly now, but Riza wasn't sure she wanted to know about his experiments and she definitely didn't want him taking another friend away from her by forcing the school to switch her into another class when he found out how well she got along with her teacher, whose brother just happened to be a soldier. Perhaps she was just being paranoid, but she wouldn't put anything past her father nowadays. She could hear him shouting from outside the house and she looked up dejectedly at the attic as she approached the front door.

As soon as she stepped inside, the shouting stopped. She heard footsteps on the attic stairs and a few moments later, he appeared on the landing.

"You're home early."

"I'm always home at this time," she said. Was he out of his mind? It shouldn't surprise her if he was, but she was still worried. What else might he forget?

He came downstairs and put his hands on her shoulders. Riza flinched at the contact—it was the first anyone had touched her since Roy had left, and while there was no violence in it, it was nowhere close to gentle. "Listen, Riza, this is important."

"I—I'm listening," she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. She couldn't put her finger on why she was so frightened; even though she had grown wary of him over the years, he had never laid a finger on her before. Now, however, she found herself wondering how much longer that would last.

Releasing her, Hawkeye took a step back. "I think it's time, Riza."

"Time for what?" Scared as she was, hearing her name calmed her. A bit of affection had crept into his voice when he said it.

"I need to pass on my research," he said. "My life's work—I can't allow it to die with me."

Funny, he didn't seem close to dying. His eyes were wild with excitement, his hair tied back into a neat ponytail, and he still looked every bit as young as he was. Perhaps he was afraid of a storm sealing them in until they starved, but winter was still a long way off and years like the last were rare. "I don't understand, Father," she said as she followed him upstairs. "Are you going to send for Roy?"

"No, no, nothing of the sort." When he didn't elaborate, Riza concluded that he either wanted to force her to learn alchemy or to see if she was clever enough to crack whatever code he had used. If she couldn't, she supposed he would consider it worthy, but that seemed dangerous to her. After all, she had next to no experience in understanding an alchemist's research notes. Roy's were one thing, since they had come up with the code together, but she had never them anyway. Even on the days he had asked her for help, the codes hadn't been nearly as complicated as what her father needed to conceal something as dangerous as his research. She believed him when he said flame alchemy could be used for good, but she could also see the danger of letting it fall into the wrong hands.

The attic was messier than usual, with books strewn across the floor and table, most of them open. Riza stepped carefully around them as she moved to take a seat. Shoving a book across the table at her, Hawkeye pointed at a passage she supposed he wanted her to read. "Do you want me to decipher this?" she asked.

"No, I want you to recite what it says word for word. Of course I want you to decipher it!" he snapped. "It's not that hard."

Riza read the passage over and over but it only looked like an ordinary medical textbook to her. As far as she could tell, it was nothing more than one of her mother's old reference books. After what felt like ages, she looked up. "I already told you I don't want to be an alchemist. Why are you making me do this?"

"I'm not asking you to be an alchemist, Riza. I'm asking you to read this section and tell me what I'm going to suggest. Did you even turn the page?"

"No. I'm sorry." With a lump in her throat, she turned the page, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She wasn't even sure why she was this close to tears anyway. After reading the entire section through, she started to understand, and the tears dried up immediately. Horrified, she slammed the book shut.

"I take it you've finished." Hawkeye leaned forward and took the book from her. "Now, tell me, Riza, what do you say?"

She thought for a moment, her lower lip quivering. There was no telling what he might do if she turned him down directly. "I think," she said, hoping what little she had learned of alchemy over the years was enough to protect her, "that what you're suggesting is human transmutation."

"In a way, but not in the way you think," he said, resting his chin on his fingertips. "There is nothing taboo about certain forms of alchemy performed on a living person. Doctors often use alchemy in emergencies. Your mother once suggested I study medicine for that very reason, but I never had an interest in that particular branch of alchemy."

"Until now. But why? I wasn't entirely clear on what it meant, but I could tell it had something to do with altering skin. Are you trying to teach me how to heal burns so I can continue your research after you're gone? Or to keep you around longer?"

"Haven't you listened to a word I said?" he snapped.

"I have, but I don't—"

"I thought you were cleverer than this, Riza," Hawkeye said. "Come now, why would I need to know this to protect my research?"

Closing her eyes, Riza struggled to remember what she had read and what she had understood behind the passage itself. Slowly, with her heart sinking to her toes, she realized just what he had in mind. "You want to use me to hide it."

"Very good. Maybe you are as clever as you seem. Go on." He waved his hand encouragingly, looking happier than she had seen him in years.

"You want to tattoo it on my back using alchemy because papers can be stolen or lost or destroyed…And a person can't." Her spine prickled as she said the words, dreading what it would feel like to have her body altered. At least it wouldn't hurt nearly as much as a needle. Or so she hoped. She was a little fuzzy on what equivalent exchange meant, but she had a nasty feeling that having any alchemy done to her would be as uncomfortable as whatever other options might be available.

Hawkeye nodded. "Now that's what I expected from you. So tell me, Riza, will you do it? Will you keep it safe for me—protect my research until you find someone who is worthy of it, someone who will use it to help the people of this country?"

"I will." What else was she supposed to say? She wanted him to be proud of her and it certainly seemed like he was already. This would only make things better. Maybe if his research was complete and hidden, he would spend time with her, get to know her. Maybe he would even let her see Roy again.

"Tonight, then. After dinner, I'll do it," he said.

"Yes, Father." For the first time, her voice sounded less scared than she felt.

After dinner, she followed him back to the attic. Her entire body trembled as she climbed the stairs, from hunger as well as from fear since she hadn't been able to stomach her dinner. She had taken one bite and picked at the food on her plate before giving it to her father. He seemed to have even more of an appetite than usual.

Wrapping herself in a blanket, Riza unbuttoned her shirt and shrugged it off. It wasn't even October yet but the air was already cold. She shivered and wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders. What little warmth she gained from doing so would dissipate as soon as her father told her to expose her back, but at least it stopped her teeth from chattering.

"Are you ready?" Hawkeye asked. He put a hand on her shoulder and she flinched.

Nodding, Riza adjusted the blanket so the center covered her chest. She lay down on the floor, resting her face on her fists as her father's icy hands exposed her back. "How long will it take?" she asked.

"I'm not certain," he admitted. "It is a very complicated transmutation."

Something brushed across her back and she gritted her teeth, but it was only a marker. Of course. He still had to draw the circle to embed the ink in her skin. Several times, he stopped to swear and rub out his mistakes with alcohol. If he had trouble with this, she was grateful he hadn't thought to attempt giving her a tattoo the old-fashioned way. She shuddered to think what would have happened if he'd made any mistakes with that.

By the time he finished the transmutation circle, Riza's eyes were half-closed and she was almost numb with cold and exhaustion. She woke up instantly when something freezing sloshed across her back. Biting back a yelp, she reminded herself that the dye had to come from somewhere. Before she had finished the thought, the entire attic lit up. She was vaguely aware of her father's hands on her back before her entire body burned white-hot with pain. Biting her lip, she managed to hold back a scream but she still felt a whimper escape. Even when the light vanished, her back still felt as though it were being stabbed by a million needles—and every single one of them on fire. _Oh god oh god oh please let me die here._ She didn't care about anything anymore, not about finishing school, not about going to Central, not even about seeing Roy again. She just wanted the pain to stop. _Oh please let it stop._

"You can sit up now, Riza. It's finished." His voice seemed to come from another room, but she could still feel him kneeling beside her.

Riza didn't think she would be able to, but slowly, slowly, she made it to her knees, still clutching the blanket to her chest. At least she wasn't cold anymore. The pain of moving brought tears to her eyes, but she didn't care anymore. She had every right to cry. As the tears trickled down her cheeks, she made no attempt to dry them.

Why are you crying?" her father asked.

It took a moment to find her tongue; she had bitten it without realizing and her mouth tasted like blood. "It's my birthday."


	33. Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank my beta hawkeyedriza and all my readers for being wonderful and sticking with me! Sorry about the short chapter.

Riza didn't want to open her eyes when she awoke with her face pressed into her pillow. Her back still hurt so terribly that she dared not move even though she desperately needed to use the bathroom. Biting back another wave of sobs, she clenched her fists around the sheet. She had been looking forward to school, but now she couldn't go at all. Even the thought of putting a shirt on was agony. It wasn't fair—it just wasn't _fair._ She had tried to be a good daughter, had tried so damn hard and this was what she got for it.

There had to be something she could do to make it hurt less. Her mother would have known, and her mother's old friends at the hospital, but the last Riza had seen of any of them was at the funeral, and most of them had moved away to bigger hospitals in East City or Central since then anyway, and newer doctors had moved in, prejudiced doctors who had grown up here and saw alchemy as dangerous. They could sew people up without a transmutation—they had always done that here. So why would anyone need to use alchemy? She didn't have an answer to that anymore. Her father always said it was for the good of the people, but she was a person too. And Roy was so far away, much too far to tell her that he would sooner die than use alchemy to hurt her.

He was the only person she could tell. Ms. Carlisle and Father Eckhart would be horrified but they could not help her. No one in the village would be surprised that Riza's father had hurt her, and only the two of them would care enough to feel sorry for her, but they didn't have the means to help her anyway. She considered writing to Christmas the way Roy had suggested before he left, but she thought better of it. With the key to flame alchemy written on her back, she wouldn't feel safe in Central, surrounded by thousands of people, including alchemists who might hurt her if they found out. Not to mention her reluctance to pour her heart out to a woman she had never met.

She couldn't stop the tears now, even if she could keep herself perfectly still. She couldn't even remember the last time she had felt this lonely. Even when Roy had left, it was the promise that they would see each other soon, but now she didn't know how she could. Her father would never let him see her again, not now. He had made it perfectly clear he didn't want any soldiers to get their hands on his research. It all made sense to her now. He had said he didn't want any soldiers getting their hands on her either. Disgusted, Riza burrowed her head even deeper into the pillow until she could hardly breathe. She didn't move again until the burning in her lungs was worse than the burning on her back. Forcing herself up on her elbows, she breathed in the frigid air.

Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since lunch the day before. Still, she had to remove the bandage from her tattoo before she ate and she dreaded it. Her father had put some kind of awful ointment on it once she had stopped crying, but that had only made it hurt worse than it had before. Gritting her teeth, she sat up on her knees, letting the blanket fall away. The cold seeped into her skin immediately.

Shivering, Riza climbed out of bed. She gathered clothes and clutched them to her chest, hoping she wouldn't run into her father in the hall. A draft swirled around her bare legs when she opened the door and she shivered violently. It wasn't even the air that bothered her so much as how exposed she felt. She raced to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. The face that stared back from the mirror when she turned around frightened her; she looked so much younger than she felt. For all the times she had told herself she had to be grown up—for all the times Roy had teased that she acted older than he did—she felt like a scared little kid who was afraid that a shower would break her.

She peeled the bandage off slowly, still watching her face in the mirror. Remarkably, only a little of the pain she felt showed on her features—a few creases between her eyes, a spasm in her cheek, her jaw clenched a little tighter than usual. And then it was over. Cool air stung her back as she clenched her fist around the bandage. She crumpled it and dropped it in the trashcan. _And now for the worst part._

The water was freezing at first and she jerked back from the spray. It took ages to get warm, and by the time it did, she could hear her father on the attic stairs. She wondered what he wanted up there if his research was finished, but she was relieved he hadn't tried to talk to her. She didn't particularly want to see him now and that desire had little to do with her state of dress.

After her father had put the ointment and the bandage on her back, he had told her not to take it off until morning and to get some rest. He hadn't given her so much as an "I'm sorry" or even wished her a happy birthday. A small part of her wanted to believe it was guilt that had caused his silence. Surely, he must have believed it would be less painful to use alchemy than a needle. He hadn't done it to be cruel and realizing just how much he had hurt her—on her birthday of all days—had made him feel terrible.

Reaching out to test the temperature of the water again, Riza tried to remember the man Berthold Hawkeye had been in the years before his wife's death. He had built the treehouse for her, and she could vaguely recall a swing in the apple tree. A flood of images washed over her as she stepped into the tub. _Pigtails bounced as she screamed, "Higher, Papa! Higher!" She leaned back and stretched her chubby legs as far as they would go. Her mother stood in the doorway, still in her work uniform._ That had to have been close to thirteen years ago.

Riza inched toward the showerhead, fingernails digging into her palms. She half expected all the skin on her back to slough off as soon as the water hit it but it didn't. It stung like hell, but her body stayed intact. Strange as it was, that was the moment when it dawned on her that she would be just fine. She washed herself carefully, but the pain subsided with every breath she took. She had already survived the worst of it. She had gone hungry. She had been sick and injured before. And even though a part of her realized she would likely never be able to marry for fear of letting someone unworthy see her back, she didn't particularly mind. After all, she had never even entertained the thought of marriage until those last few months with Roy.

 _Roy..._ What if he did want to marry her someday? Of all the people in Amestris, he was the only one she knew well enough to trust with her father's research, but that didn't mean the military wouldn't change him. The soldier that had threatened them in the woods—what if he became like that? _No, he wouldn't. He would never._ She hugged herself, fighting to keep her face expressionless even though no one was around to see. It hurt to think about what Roy's reaction would be if he could see her now. She wasn't sure whether he'd wrap her in a towel and hug her as hard as he could without hurting her or march upstairs and yell at her father. Both thoughts were so comforting that she almost smiled.

The smile turned almost instantly to a frown when she realized she was going to miss school. Even if she hadn't spent so long dawdling this morning, she didn't want to spend the day trying to act like nothing was wrong. Even if her classmates didn't notice, Ms. Carlisle would, and then she'd have to come up with a lie and she didn't like lying to friends. But she was going to have to lie anyway, and saying she had come down with a stomach bug ought to do the trick. She would probably have to stay home tomorrow to make it more convincing, but spending two days in bed didn't sound like the worst fate in the world. At least she could study even if she wasn't in class.

She turned off the shower and reached for her towel. Her stomach rumbled slightly as she dried her hair but she didn't know if she could stomach more than a few slices of toast. So maybe saying she had the flu wasn't that big of a stretch after all. Once she was dry, she hung the towel up and put on her clothes, grateful for the dress's open back. It wasn't something she would ever be able to wear again without something underneath, but that seemed the smallest of the prices she would have to pay for this. With one last look over her shoulder to make sure there was no sign of infection, Riza left the safety of the bathroom to make her way to the cold, lonely kitchen.


	34. Sandwiches and Sympathy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, guys! Hopefully I can get back to weekly updates soon, but school starts on Monday so it might be a bit hectic again. Thanks for sticking with me!

True to her feigned illness, Riza returned to school much paler than usual. The pain had mostly dissipated, but phantom tingles brought it back if she allowed herself to dwell on them. And sometimes it came back even if she didn't. Ms. Carlisle smiled when she called Riza's name on the roll but didn't ask for an explanation of her absence. A sudden jolt startled Riza and she looked down to see a foot on the leg of her chair. Another sharp kick sent a pen rolling off her desk and she turned to glare over her shoulder.

"Where'd you go?" Claire whispered. "Did your boyfriend come for a visit? I heard it was your birthday."

"I had the flu," Riza said. A part of her wanted to add that she should have come to spread it, but that sounded too mean even in her head. When Claire didn't respond, Riza turned to face forward again. Ms. Carlisle had just called the final name on the roll, but she didn't make any mention of the conversation. Perhaps she simply hadn't noticed with her attention focused on the loud voices of the students she called on rather than the two whispering girls in the corner. Even if that were the case, Riza planned to apologize during lunch.

The morning's lessons passed far too quickly for Riza's liking. As she scribbled the last sentence of her notes on cellular structure and its key formations, she felt her stomach lurch miserably. She had spoken only one sentence but guilt had welled up in her ever since, like the exponential equations she had solved on the pop quiz and the dividing cells in the diagrams of the next section of her borrowed biology textbook. As if on cue, her back started to burn as well. Just what she needed. It felt as though someone had activated the transmutation circle her father had embedded in her skin but she managed to bite her trembling lip long enough to hold back a scream.

When the pain had passed, she could taste blood. The rest of the class had left by then, even Claire with her never-ending curiosity about Riza's personal life. Ms. Carlisle stood, moving from behind her desk to the one beside Riza's. Sitting sideways in the chair, she leaned forward earnestly with her elbows on her knees.

For a moment, Riza was reminded painfully of her mother. Ms. Carlisle's hair was much too dark and her eyes were the wrong color but those seemed insignificant compared to how it felt to have this particular kind of warmth directed at her. "You were ill?" she asked kindly, eyes brimming with concern.

Riza bobbed her head. "The flu. That's what I told Claire during roll call. I'm sorry." Her voice wavered slightly on the last word. Pathetic. She felt pathetic. And so very small: a child awaiting punishment. She wanted someone to hug her, but it was as impossible for Ms. Carlisle as it was for her mother. A breach of protocol. Improper. Wrong. Riza recited the words to herself over again in the silence, wondering if she even cared. Could she use loneliness as justification? And the fact that no one was around? At the moment, nothing sounded better.

As if reading her mind, Ms. Carlisle moved from her seat, still crouching low enough to engulf Riza in her arms. It was worth the pain of pressure against her tattoo, worth every risk. Even though she knew it wasn't the same, Riza felt for a moment that her mother truly had returned. She breathed in, wrinkling her nose a bit the light, fruity perfume that was so different from the opposing scents of antiseptic and baking cookies she still associated with the concept of mother. All too soon it was over and Ms. Carlisle sat down again, leaving Riza to wonder why her arms had remained stiffly at her sides rather than returning the hug. Did she dare initiate another one? No, it was safer not to.

Ms. Carlisle gave Riza an understanding smile. Perhaps she realized she hadn't given Riza much of a chance to react. "Are you ready to eat?" she asked. When Riza nodded, she stood and went to her desk, retrieving two sandwiches and an envelope from her purse.

When she returned, she set a sandwich on Riza's desk and tore open the envelope, removing a single sheet of paper. Riza undid the wrapping to take a bite. The thick bread tasted homemade and a tiny bit sweet. A twinge of guilt stung her as she chewed; Ms. Carlisle must have brought a sandwich yesterday, and she had through to bring one today even though Riza had been absent. All at once, swallowing seemed difficult and she had to gulp several times to dislodge both the bite she had taken and lump in her throat. "Is that from your brother?" she asked once she could speak again.

"Yes, it is," Ms. Carlisle said, looking up from the letter with a hint of reluctance. "This is the first I've heard from him since he reached the front lines."

"I'm glad he's ok." The lump in her throat returned as she imagined Roy being sent to Ishval. If he left as soon as he finished at the academy, she would never see hear from him again if he died, and she would have no way of knowing if he had. Even if he survived, there was no guarantee they would see each other again. She took another bite of her sandwich, grinding her teeth into the bread. It didn't stop her heart from hurting, but at least it served as a distraction.

An idea began to form in Riza's mind as she chewed. Her father had forbidden letters from Roy, but he hadn't mentioned Christmas. It was possible, of course, that he had requested all letters addressed to Riza be destroyed in case Roy had thought to use a fake name, but now she had an alternative solution. "Ms. Carlisle," she said, looking down at her feet, "can I ask a favor?"

"Of course, Riza. What do you need?"

All at once, Riza felt rather shy about what she wanted to say. It seemed like such a silly request now that she had been asked to voice it. Childish and selfish and completely disrespectful of her father's authority. She bit her lip, stalling the words to give her time to think of a new favor. "It's going to get cold soon and sometimes the road home is blocked by snow in the winter…" She trailed off, looking to Ms. Carlisle to understand her implication.

"Are you asking if you can spend the night at my house if that happens?" she asked.

Looking at her toes again, Riza gave a little nod. "Yes, Ma'am. If it's alright with you."

"Why wouldn't it be?" Ms. Carlisle said. When Riza glanced up at her, she looked genuinely shocked. "I would never force one of my students to walk home alone in weather like that."

"Thank you," Riza said. She thought about mentioning her fear that a rule might prevent her from visiting a teacher at home but it was likely Ms. Carlisle knew better than she did. Or that she simply didn't care. Either way, knowing that she had someplace to stay that wasn't a choir loft made her feel a lot better, even if she hadn't been able to work up the courage to ask Ms. Carlisle if she could receive letters for her.

The door swung open, catching them both of guard. The lunch period was barely half over. They both turned to look at the hunched figure in the doorway.

"Is something wrong, Claire?" Ms. Carlisle asked.

Claire looked up, stifling a hiccup that might have been mixed with a sob. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks stained with tears. In spite of everything Claire had done and said to her over the years, Riza couldn't help but feel sorry for her classmate. Something awful must have happened to make her cry like this, especially at school. She looked as though she was about to answer but her mouth closed as soon as she saw Riza and she turned on her heel and started to leave.

"Don't go," Ms. Carlisle said. "Did something happen?"

"I don't want to talk about it if _she's_ here," Claire hissed.

Riza inhaled sharply. Why would Claire be afraid of her? It wasn't as though Riza was the one who instigated the cruel jabs, and she normally did what she could to diffuse conflict rather than to escalate it. In spite of everything, she couldn't help but feel sorry for Claire. She always seemed so invulnerable, so untouchable, and seeing her break down like this—well, she could almost relate. Still, she couldn't find the words to explain it and remained in her seat, miserable as Ms. Carlisle left to chase after her distraught student. She hadn't even touched her sandwich yet.

Tucking her feet up on her chair, Riza played with the top of one sock. The coarse wool felt even itchier under her fingers than it did on her leg. In spite of everything, it had never entered her mind to truly hate Claire. Fear led people to believe terrible things, Riza knew, and certainly Claire had reason to fear the child of the mad alchemist. No one but Roy and perhaps Ms. Carlisle knew that petty revenge had never held much appeal for Riza.

Ms. Carlisle escorted Claire into the room a few moments later. Removing a tissue from the box on her desk, she handed it to the sniffling girl, who accepted it with a watery smile. She blew her nose loudly and dried her eyes on an unused corner of the tissue.

"Are you feeling any better?" Ms. Carlisle asked.

With a nervous glance in Riza direction, Claire nodded. "J-just a little. Thanks. Can I go home early? I don't want to sit by him."

Slowly, Riza began to piece together what must have happened. Her heart lurched sympathetically and even though she told herself she shouldn't pry into other's relationships after all the hurt she had experienced when others had mocked hers, she said, "Did Chris break up with you?"

Claire's expression hardened. "What do you care?"

"You can switch seats with me if he did," Riza offered. "There's no need for you to leave."

"I think that's a wonderful idea, Riza," Ms. Carlisle said. She turned to look at Claire, who seemed on the verge of tears again.

She didn't say anything, only nodded, but Riza didn't mind. It wasn't like she expected gratitude. Standing quietly, she gathered her things and moved back to wait for Claire. The other girl hardly seemed to acknowledge her as she placed her book bag beside Riza's old desk. _At least,_ Riza thought as she watched Claire slump in the chair, _it's a start._


	35. First Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait again! I've had sort of a hectic time since school started, but I'm going to do what I can to get back on a regular schedule for updates.

Chapter 35: First Snow

The cold made Riza's fingers ache as she scrapped what must have been the fortieth draft of a new letter to Roy. She had hoped a fresh year would mean a fresh start but she didn't even know what to tell him anymore. The tattoo that no longer pained her had somehow seeped its way into the rest of her life; the need for secrecy kept her on edge, terrified of even the smallest gap forming between her collar and her neck. How could she begin to explain to Roy what her life was like now? She had always been the freak, the alchemist's daughter, the witch. Now she had been marked as such. She wondered if he would find her repulsive now. She wondered if it even mattered.

A thin crust of snow had collected on her windowsill overnight and tiny flakes drifted down from the pale grey sky but the sight did little to calm her. The crumpled papers in the waste bin seemed to mock her even from a peripheral so she rested her chin on the desk instead, tapping a pen against the wood in front of her nose. Sundays always seemed to drag past now that she spent them alone. Her homework was almost always finished by Saturday night and her chores as well. She had read every book she owned several times over and it was far too cold to go outside. Inside was frigid enough, even with one blanket draped around her shoulders and a second around her legs.

She sat up again and reached for the mug at the corner of her desk. Only dregs remained but she drank them anyway. Ice cold and far too bitter for her liking, they left an acrid taste in her mouth. A knock at the door startled her and she nearly dropped the empty mug. "Come in, Father," she said.

The door creaked open but she didn't bother looking. Her eyes remained fixed on the wall behind the desk. Was he here to ask about lunch? For more herbal tea to help with the cold he'd been nursing for nearly a month? Or had he come to see the tattoo? He had asked to see it only once since it had healed, to verify that none of the ink had bled, but she had been reluctant to show him. The cold hadn't quite set in yet, but showing that much bare skin had felt wrong, even if he had allowed her the chance to cover the chest she often wished was smaller. Even Roy hadn't wanted to go farther than kissing while she was still only sixteen. Seventeen hadn't made much of a difference, even if her father's interest was different and somehow less pure than Roy's. She wasn't even sure he saw her as a person when was thinking of his research, let alone as his daughter. Even before the tattoo, she didn't think she had quite been there to him.

* * *

The first time she found him in front of the fire, neither of them recognized the other. Or maybe he was just pretending not to notice. The face that had once been soft smiles and tender kisses when Mother came home had hardened into stone not unlike he had worn at the funeral. _Big girls don't cry._ But sometimes grownups wept and so did Riza once her feet hit the stairs. But only a little, so as not to disturb him.

The second time, he was laughing but there was no joy in the sound. She tickled her lips with the end of one pigtail as though a childish part of her hoped to find comfort in chewing it but she couldn't bear to let the hair between her teeth. She cut it off herself in the morning—all of it. The strands were wavy from a day tied up and a night on her pillow and they fell into the sink like thread. She scooped it all up into the trash, feeling the fine, soft strands slip between her fingers without any accompanying sense of loss. She was a woman now and soon she would have her mother's face. Mother had been beautiful with short hair. She hoped she would be lovely someday too instead of a skinny, frail child with a hollow face. Maybe she would come home to softness then, in another house, in another place. She didn't believe she would.

Her hands were harder than a seven-year-old's should be and not simply because they were chapped by the dry winter air. Cleaners and washboards had made them rough; a knife had left tiny marks on her fingers as she taught herself to skin rabbits. Plucking birds was easier but they had all gone south except for the crows and she could feel hunger etched into every inch of her. Her father had promised a world where no one was ever cold again but even with the fire blazing downstairs as it had all through the night, she could not remember what it felt like to be warm beneath her skin. She was not longer sure summer would come again. She felt as if the world would be lost to the grey cold that had snuffed it out.

* * *

Even with the snow falling outside, Riza felt warmer now. If only she could have shared some of that with her younger self. The waifish girl had needed someone to look after her and so she had become that someone, trapped in a future where she was almost helpless to accomplish her own goal. She bit her lip. Would that little girl feel betrayed if she knew about the mark that would one day disfigure her back? She had fought so adamantly against alchemy, had wanted nothing to do with it when her father offered to make her his first apprentice. In a way, she supposed it had saved them. The money he had made the following spring when he took in a man from East City had paid for more food than she had seen in all the time since her mother's savings had run out. But he had scarcely lasted a month before her father threw him out. Roy had been nothing short of a miracle.

A soft sniffling sound disturbed her thoughts and Riza turned to see her father standing over her, wiping his nose with a dirty handkerchief. His eyes watery eyes were bloodshot. "Riza," he said darkly, although that might just have been the congestion, "there's someone on the road."

Her heart sped up. It was unlikely—almost impossible—that Roy might have gotten leave to visit. She scrambled up from the chair, fingers still curled around the handle of her mug. Before she even had time to remember how stupid it was to hope that Roy was outside, an ache took up residence somewhere between her heart and her stomach, bouncing between the two of them. She couldn't even write a letter; how could she hope to talk to him on the off chance he had come to visit against her father's wishes? Surely her tongue would be as dry as her pen.

The floorboards creaked slightly as they made their across the hall into her old bedroom. She stood silently beside the window, hair tickling the back of her neck uncomfortably as her father breathed down on her. Just as he had described, a heavily bundled person was making their way across the yard. Though tall enough to be Roy, the stranger had too feminine a build and Riza felt her heart sink. In spite of her best efforts to keep them in check, her hopes had grown a considerable amount.

"Shouldn't we go downstairs to let her in?" Riza asked nervously, playing with the frayed cuffs of her sweater.

"Is she a friend of yours?"

"Might be," she muttered, shrugging her shoulders. It seemed strange for Ms. Carlisle to pay her a visit, but she couldn't think of any other woman who might have come to see her, let alone on New Year's Day. "Shouldn't we let her in?"

Hawkeye shook his head emphatically. "She might be after my research." A fever must have gotten to him: that was the most preposterous thing Riza had heard in a long time.

"I don't think so," Riza said softly, hear heart hammering in her chest. "I think she's a friend of mine."

A snort of laughter sprayed spit and snot all over her hair and she winced in disgust, searching for her own handkerchief to wipe it away. Through his laughter, Hawkeye said, "You're being foolish, Riza. No one in town has trusted either of us since the day your mother died. Funny they'd all blame me for not fixing her with alchemy when she fell ill surrounded by doctors. All those friends of hers and not one dared speak to us again."

Riza's fingers twisted nervously around her skirt. "She moved here last summer. She's my teacher."

That seemed to give him pause. At least he was quiet, now, and perfectly still apart from the steady rhythm of sniffing and rubbing his handkerchief against his nose. As the figure reached the door, Hawkeye coughed into his elbow, wet and violent. Riza's entire knowledge of medicine and illness came only from experience and a few of her mother's old textbooks but she had a nasty feeling that his cold had progressed to pneumonia. She still had nearly all of the money Roy had given her; surely that would be enough for medicine. She couldn't allow him to die in such a horrible way. Drowning. That's what it sounded like to her. How horrible to drown surrounded by air, however stagnant.

Still horrified at the thought, Riza slipped out from between her father and the window. She heard a knock before she stepped into the hall but the stranger still waited outside when she reached the foot of the stairs. Bracing herself against the cold, she tugged the door open. "Ms. Carlisle?" she asked, hugging herself to keep warm. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought you might be hungry after a week without school." From her coat, she removed a small ham. To Riza, it was worth the entire butcher's shop but Ms. Carlisle wasn't finished. She piled half a dozen winter pears onto the wrapped meat in Riza's arms. "From my yard," she explained, dusting away frost that had accumulated on the skin of the fruit before she had picked it.

Wordlessly, Riza tipped the gifts onto the bench and flung her arms around her teacher. Perhaps it was foolish, perhaps it was childish, but Ms. Carlisle had hugged her once before and Riza felt that it was better than releasing the tears that threatened to fall. "Thank you," she whispered into the coarse wool of Ms. Carlisle's coat.

"You're welcome, Riza," Ms. Carlisle said after a moment of stunned silence. She returned the embrace.

Riza pulled away first, suddenly feeling shy. "Will you stay for tea?" When Ms. Carlisle looked hesitant, she added, "It's the least I can do after you came all this way."

Once Ms. Carlisle's winter clothing was stowed on the coat rack, she followed Riza into the kitchen. It wasn't until she had filled the kettle and placed it on the stove that Riza turned back to see her sitting in the chair that always sat empty now. Roy's chair. In her mind, it still was even though he hadn't sat there in half a year. Her heart hit a painful offbeat as she turned around again, this time to retrieve mugs. _It doesn't matter,_ she chided herself. _It's only a chair._ And it was. She knew that it would take more than kindness and a seating arrangement to replace him in her heart, as closed off as it now was. But she couldn't help but wonder about him, walled off in the academy, forbidden from writing.

Everything her father had told her about soldiers sloshed around her mind. Dogs of the military, born and bred to destroy. Men who threatened starving little girls. Is that what Roy would become? She choked on her breath, the sound masked by the whistling of the kettle. She didn't know—she couldn't know—just what they taught in that place. All she could do was measure leaves into the teapot. And hope. She could do that, too.


	36. Equivalence

Spring came late again, arriving quite suddenly toward the end of April. Ms. Carlisle didn't come to school that day, and Riza ate lunch alone in the yard beneath the pear tree. There were no blossoms yet, but she had no one to give them to this year. From the other side of the yard, she saw Claire watching her; the girl had other friends, of course, but ever since she had let Riza see her vulnerable, the teasing had stopped. Or maybe it had stopped when Chris had hurt her, too. The boy and his friends still found an ideal target in Riza. With a sense of resignation settling over her, she watched them approach.

Riza shrank against the trunk of the tree. She had nothing to give them—she hadn't even had anything to eat for lunch with Ms. Carlisle gone. But when she looked up to face her threat, none of the boys had a chance to speak.

"What do you want with her?" Claire's breathless voice startled Chris almost as much as it did Riza.

The shock that rippled through the small crowd bought enough time for Riza to push herself up. She still leaned against the tree for support, but at least she felt braver on her feet.

"What do you care?" Chris spat back, his attention no longer on Riza. "She's nothing to you."

Claire laughed. "I don't care who she is. No one should have to deal with a bastard like you." She extended a hand to Riza. "Come on."

Disbelief muddling her head, Riza placed her fingers against Claire's. When they were far enough away but still not quite to Claire's friends, Riza let her hand fall to her side again. "Thank you," she said.

"I'm sorry he was bothering you." A long silence stretched between them and Claire bit her lip, rocking back onto her heels. Just as Riza turned to leave, she said, "I'm sorry, too. For the way I used to treat you."

That was the biggest surprise of all. Riza froze, her eyes wide. Yes, the other girls from her class had all but left her alone since the day Claire had run into the classroom during lunch with a tearstained face, but she had thought of it as an uneasy truce. She had never expected an apology. And now that she had received one, she didn't know how to respond. Her tongue didn't seem as willing to cooperate as it had only moments before. A stuttered thanks was all she could manage.

Claire accepted it with a gracious smile. "Would you like to sit with us in case they come back?"

"I—no, that's alright. I'm fine, thank you." For all she knew, the other girls still feared her. Still hated her. Just because Claire had had a change of heart didn't mean that anyone else had. Riza fisted her hands in her skirt and turned away.

"Then I'll sit with you."

The words came as a shock. Struggling for words once again, Riza inclined her head gratefully and the two girls returned to the tree Riza had been sitting under before the boys had harassed her. With new leaves trembling in the breeze overhead and sunlight warming her face, Riza glanced nervously at Claire. "Why?" she asked.

Claire shrugged. "Because I was wrong about you," she said as though admitting it might scorch her tongue. "You don't even know the first thing about alchemy, do you?"

"If I did, I might have been able to stand up for myself." Riza pulled her knees up to her chest. If she could have performed even a simple transmutation, she was certain that people would have decided to leave her alone long ago.

"You stood up for that boy."

Hugging her legs tighter, Riza said, "He was my friend."

"So that's true, then? You two really were friends and you never…"

"Never what?" Riza asked, eyes narrowing. "If you're talking about the rumors you and your friends started, then no, we never did."

Claire twisted a blade of grass between her thumb and index finger, unwilling or perhaps unable to meet Riza's gaze. "All those horrible things I said about you—I'm sorry."

"Thank you," Riza said.

"May I ask why he left? Or is that too personal?"

A part of Riza wanted to ask why it mattered to her, wanted to ask why Claire was being so nice today. Perhaps it was a form of penance and Claire getting to know Riza and befriending her might make up a small part of the pain she had caused over the years. But all the accusations of being a monster, a freak, a know-it-all, and lately, a whore, could not truly be washed away in one lunch period. Riza buried her face between her knees, promising herself that she wouldn't cry. She had spent an entire recess trying to get gum out of her hair once and she hadn't cried then. She had even held in her tears on the nights when the obscene questions about her relationship with Roy had made her want to sob or throw up or both.

"I guess that's too personal," Claire said, breaking the silence that stretched between them. "We don't have to talk about him."

Uncertain of what else there was to talk about, Riza gave voice to the question she had been considering all morning, "Do you know where Ms. Carlisle lives?"

Of all the things Claire might have expected her to say, this certainly hadn't made the list. She stared at Riza with parted lips for a moment before frowning and cupping her chin thoughtfully. "I'm not sure. What does it matter anyway? It's not like the substitute didn't tell us what the reading assignments are."

"It's not that," Riza mumbled.

Claire's expression softened. "Is it because you're hungry? If you want to come home with me after school, I'll find something for you. It can be a peace offering so you know you can trust me."

Riza shook her head. "Thank you for the offer," she said, looking down at the fabric of her skirt stretched across her lap. "I just wanted to make sure she's okay. She did the same for me last winter and I want to return the favor."

Before Claire could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period. The two girls hurried to their feet, Claire looking over her shoulder to where her friends were still sitting. They seemed to be laughing. Riza felt a twinge of loneliness—for Roy, for Ms. Carlisle, for the possible future of a friendship with Claire made possible by today's attempt at reconciliation. Perhaps she should have told her about Roy's departure after all, even if she had left out the kisses she suspected had everything to do with her father's unwillingness to hear Roy out, despite his insistence to the contrary. But there would be time enough for that later if they truly became friends, so she kept her silence the rest of the way to the classroom.

The afternoon passed slowly as Riza frowned over the assignment the substitute had passed out as soon as the last group of students passed through the door. It wasn't particularly difficult, but reading and setting up each problem took ages. Her only distraction came when Claire asked for a hall pass. She finished three problems before the other girl returned, surreptitiously placing a scrap of paper under Riza's notebook before settling at her desk.

Riza made certain the substitute wasn't watching before removing the paper. An address was written on it in neat cursive. She tucked it inside the cover of her notebook. How Claire had managed to find Ms. Carlisle's address on a bathroom break, she couldn't guess, but there was nothing else it could be. "Thank you," she whispered, hoping it was just loud enough for her to hear.

After class had ended and Riza had repeated her thanks and said goodbye, she made her way through the narrow streets, looking for the address. Her search led her to a run-down apartment complex on a deserted corner she had never been to before, far from the center of town on the opposite side from the road that led home.

The inside smelled a bit like her father's attic; the stagnant, musty air made her nose prickle. Holding back a sneeze, she made her way to the stairs. They were even creakier than the ones she was used to and the confined space felt like one the towers in the stories she had read as a child about knights and dragons, though it smelled of urine and cigarette smoke rather than charred bones. By the time she reached the third floor, she felt somewhat queasy. One of the numbers had fallen off Ms. Carlisle's door, leaving behind a faint imprint of where it had been on the dark finish. Riza knocked.

Silence followed, but after several moments, the metallic sounds of locks being undone reached Riza's ears. The door swung inward, revealing a robe-clad, puffy-eyed Ms. Carlisle, dabbing at her face with a handkerchief. "Oh," she said with a small hiccup, a touch of relief in her shaky voice. "It's you. Come in."

"Were you expecting someone else?" Riza asked gently, following her teacher inside.

"I thought it might be the neighbors with a complaint. The walls aren't very thick." She forced a watery smile.

Riza frowned in response. "What's wrong? I can see you've been crying."

Wordlessly, Ms. Carlisle gestured to the coffee table, where a creased sheet of paper lay beside an envelope bearing a seal Riza recognized. The seal of Amestris. She knew at once what had happened but was unsure how to approach it. She felt sick to her stomach all over again.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. Her fists clenched as she struggled to swallow the lump in her throat. It refused to budge no matter how hard she tried. "I'm sorry. Is—is there anything I can do?"

Ms. Carlisle shuffled toward the sofa, sank into the cushions and buried her face in her hands, all the while shaking her head.

"Would you like me to leave?" Riza asked, still standing beside the door. Ms. Carlisle shook her head again. "Would you like a hug?"

This time, she nodded and Riza went to the couch to wrap her arms around the grief-stricken woman. "Thank you," Ms. Carlisle whispered. She rubbed her nose with her handkerchief.

Riza patted her back gently before pulling away. With knees turned in and hands in her lap, she stared at the letter on the coffee table; the ink bled around several dried tearstains, but she didn't mind. She had no intentions of reading it, only a morbid dread that she would receive a similar letter one day, followed by Roy himself, delivered in a casket draped in a flag. Before, it had only been a hazy, abstract fear, but now it felt like part of an inevitable future. She reached out to pat Ms. Carlisle's arm gently.

"I can make soup," she offered. It wasn't much, but she doubted Ms. Carlisle had eaten since she had received the letter.

Ms. Carlisle looked at her in surprise. "You don't have to take care of me, Riza. You should go home."

"I don't want to go home," Riza said. "My father's cough is much better than it's been. He doesn't need me and I'm used to taking care of people."

"That's very kind of you, but I still need to make arrangements in order to get to the funeral. Thanks for coming to see me."

Riza said goodbye and made her way back out to the street, head hung low. Of course she understood that Ms. Carlisle needed space to grieve. This wasn't a cold; Riza couldn't simply make soup or milk tea with honey to ease her discomfort. The only cure was time, she knew, but even that was no guarantee. She knew that as well as anyone and perhaps better than most. Nearly a decade later, her father was still grieving for her mother in his own way. Ms. Carlisle, at least, was more sensible than that; she wouldn't shut down the way her father had. But today, the pain of losing her brother was fresh.

At home, she put a kettle on and spread her homework across the table. Chemistry equations seemed to float up from the page, the combustion reactions accompanied by her father's voice; her throat felt clogged with imaginary smoke. Her back burned as well: the first phantom pain from her tattoo in months. She turned the page so violently it nearly tore away from the binding. "Damn it," she muttered.

Tongue between her teeth, she scanned the list of elements in the first problem, balancing the equation as she set it up, attempting to ignore her father's lecture on equivalent exchange as it burrowed its way unbidden from the back of her mind to the front. That had been her first lecture on alchemy, and her last. And it was a day she would rather forget. She had already seen the madness in his fire-lit face and made a vow to herself that she never wanted to become that.

The kettle whistled. Riza looked up, startled. Her heart was already racing from the unpleasant memories and her pen dropped to the floor. She made no effort to retrieve it. Her fingers didn't seem capable of such a task, even though they were perfectly still. It was as though her muscles had forgotten how to move at all, apart from those in her legs that carried her to the stove, seemingly of their own volition. Somehow, she managed to move the kettle from the heat. Even if she wasn't sure she would be able to scoop the leaves, it would stop the damn whistling.

The steam against her face was surprisingly pleasant; it cleared the imagined smell of smoke from her nostrils and her hands began to feel capable of movement again. Carefully, she prepared two mugs and retrieved a bottle of honey from the pantry while she waited for the leaves to steep. She stirred one drop into her father's mug.

He was coughing when she brought it to him, but it sounded dry and milder than it had in the weeks since she had spent most of her savings on medicine for him. She hoped the tea would help. But by the time the door swung shut behind her, he hadn't even returned her goodbye, absorbed as he was in whatever old tome he had been reading. She tried not to let it bother her, choosing instead to hold her own mug up to her face and breathe in the warm, calming steam.

Rather than returning to the kitchen and the chemistry assignment she couldn't bear to work on at the moment, she dark her tea in her room, sitting in front of her bookcase. The familiar titles did little to comfort her. Some, she deliberately removed and placed in a stack she had no idea what to do with. They were her mother's books; she couldn't bring herself to get rid of them entirely, even if she never again wanted to read about foolish tales of lost loves reunited—or worse, forever torn apart by war. She had plenty of other books to read, plenty of other things to fill her time. _It's something I should have learned a long time ago_ , she mused. _There is nothing romantic about death._


	37. Apprentices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait everyone! I didn't even realize how long it's been since the last update. We're in the final stretch after this so I hope to get back on a regular update schedule again soon. Thanks for your patience and reviews!

Chapter 37: Apprentices

The final months of school passed in a sort of haze. Ms. Carlisle's smile had seemed a little thin since her return from the funeral, but Riza had done what she could to comfort her. At least Ms. Carlisle was spending the summer in East City with her family, even if it left Riza feeling a bit lonely. The summer air tasted a little like Roy's kisses and she found herself missing him more than ever in spite of herself. She had taken all those books to the library with a promise to harden her heart against the inevitable. She would not waste her life waiting on a soldier who would never return. Or so she told herself on the nights when the tears threatened to drown her pillow.

Thankfully, they never seemed to come in the daylight, and her eyes remained dry as she gazed into the river, waiting for something to tug on her line. Fishing by herself was awfully boring. It left far too much time for her thoughts to wander to places she'd rather they didn't. Today, however, the sun was hot enough to leave her feeling too muddled and uncomfortable to dwell on past heartaches or her fears for the future. She hardly even noticed the rough grass against her legs.

"Riza?" Claire's voice cut through the heavy air. "You're going to melt if you stay out in the sun like that. You should come swimming with us."

She shook her head. "I'm afraid I'll have to decline," she said, staring wistfully into the river. "I don't have a bathing suit."

"You could borrow one of my sister's. She's about your size, although the top might be a little small." Claire plopped onto the grass beside Riza, who suddenly felt very self-conscious about the size of her breasts. In truth, she had a bathing suit that fit her perfectly but she had not worn it since last summer, when she had taken Roy to the pool beneath the waterfall only a few days before his sudden departure. Back then, however, there had been nothing for her to fear from exposing herself like that. She had been free of secret tattoos and Roy had been the perfect gentleman after an initial moment of awkwardness when his face had flushed red with guilt at the fact that he had stared a little too long at her body before finally meeting her eyes. But she would have been a hypocrite to call him on it when she had stolen more than a few glances at his bare chest and the muscles of his back.

"Maybe some other time. I need to catch something for dinner."

"Good luck!" Claire said, getting to her feet again. "I'll see you around."

* * *

 

* * *

 

The first apprentice ignored her entirely. Riza's excitement at the possibility of another person in the house—one who might treat her kindly—disappeared when the serious man stepped past her as though the door had opened itself. Though she had known nothing of what kind of person to expect, she was disappointed all the same that her father hadn't thought to bring someone closer to her own age. At least she had known better than to expect a woman. Long before she had watched alchemy destroy her father and lost what little interest she might have in the subject, he had refused to teach her anything on the topic. Alchemy was a man's field, and no matter how many times she had complained to her mother how unfair it was, he had refused to change his mind.

"Stubborn girl," he had muttered, "you didn't care until it was forbidden." She could still hear him, hear the life in his voice she had all but forgotten. Her own response about how she didn't need stupid alchemy and how maybe he wouldn't be afraid of teaching her if he didn't know girls were cleverer than boys anyhow only served to make him angrier. She had gone to bed without dessert until her mother brought a bowl of pudding to her on a tray.

"Why is he like that?" she had demanded. "What does he have against girls?" Even her mother hadn't had an answer for that; she had simply given Riza a tired smile and kissed her goodnight.

It wasn't until after her death that Berthold had changed his mind, as if realizing that he would never have a son to pass his legacy to, and that his daughter would have to do. But she had already seen what alchemy had done to him: deconstructing and then reconstructing his mind into something terrible. She also knew that he had made the offer as though it left a bad taste in his mouth to suggest teaching alchemy to a girl.

Now, Riza followed the stranger upstairs with the same question from all those years ago bubbling in her throat, threatening to choke her when she dared not speak it. Whoever he was, she doubted he would know the answer, and even if he did, she doubted more that she would like it. Her suspicions were fully formed at the wise old age of nine and her father's sexism seemed linked with the madness she had seen in his fire-lit eyes. No doubt this man shared the sentiment, judging by the way he looked right through her. She was there to cook and to clean, to be neither seen nor heard.

She considered at least pointing out the vacant bedroom so that he didn't pry into hers but something about his cold blue eyes stayed her tongue. The three years she had spent fending for herself had taught her to trust her own intuition and today it told her that this man's reasons for studying alchemy were not so noble as her father, perhaps, had hoped.

As soon as he disappeared into the correct room, Riza turned on heel and raced to the attic. Her father frowned when she burst through the door unannounced but he did not turn her away.

"I don't like him, Father," she said, control of her voice returning now that she was back on familiar ground. Her father's dead eyes were as frightening as the stranger's but at least she knew them.

"Which is why he is here as my apprentice and not as your playmate." Berthold regarded her with irritation. "Unless you want to go hungry, I suggest you hold your tongue around him."

"Yes, Father." It wasn't as though she planned to spend any time near the man. She would bring his meals up with her father's and leave the house as much as she could. With school starting up in a week, it would be simple to avoid contact.

The apprenticeship, it turned out, did not last the month, though the pay for that month would be enough to see them through the winter if Riza budgeted it carefully. She heard the shouting upstairs and buried her nose in a book, hoping the man would not demand a refund simply because her father had deemed him unworthy of further tutelage. She was glad to see the last of him.

* * *

 

The next apprentice at least had the decency to answer her timid hello. He smiled, shook her hand, and told her that he had a daughter about her age. As she led him up to his room, she wondered if this other girl had hair as red as her father's, and more importantly, if it was such a good idea for a man to leave his family to study alchemy. But she didn't dare warn him when they so desperately needed the money.

She learned over dinner that he had already studied alchemy, that his name was Robert, and that he always carried sweets with him. He slipped a couple to Riza under the table and she decided not to judge him too harshly yet. It was nice to feel like someone's daughter again.

Of course, it would not matter in the end if Robert treated her well, that he had a daughter of his own that he missed enough to dote on her instead, if he did not impress Riza's father. The following morning, she sat outside the attic door to eavesdrop on his first lesson, ear pressed against the wood as she heard her father ask Robert why he wanted to study alchemy so far from home when he already knew the basics.

He stammered out that it was some Brigadier General in Central. Grumman, when pressed for a name. There was a moment of terrible silence before her father said one icy word that she had to strain to hear: "Leave."

"What?" Robert's voice sounded as shocked as Riza felt.

"Leave!" Hawkeye thundered, as though volume were the cause of his apprentice's confusion. "Get out of my sight. No dog of the military will ever be worthy of my research, least of all one of _his_."

Riza scrambled to her feet when she heard a chair scrape the floor. Heart hammering in her throat, she raced down to her room, sitting at her desk with a book in order to pretend that she had been there the whole time. Only her trembling fingers as she flipped through the pages belied the fear that had arisen in her after the overheard conversation. She was accustomed to her father's tempter, to the horrible things he shouted at her sometimes, but it hadn't been this terrible in years. He had almost seemed better since she had drained the bottles of spirits from the liquor cabinet, leaving only the weak wine in the cellar to satisfy him if he demanded a drink. It always left him calmer than the stronger alcohol had, and though he had been furious with her upon discovering the empty bottles, his anger had abated with time.

Once Robert had gone, leaving her with a handful of sweets and an apology that he could not take her with him, she made her way cautiously up to the attic with a cup of tea. At least her hands had stopped shaking. She opened the door to see her father pacing the room, still fuming. Riza stepped around him to place the tea on the table and curled up on a chair, peering at him nervously over the back, fingers curled into fists on her lap.

"I liked him," she said once her father's jaw had unclenched, hoping it was a sign that he had calmed down. "Why did you send him away?"

"Don't play games with me, Riza. I know perfectly well you were listening at the door." He was still angry, but it was cold anger now; he wasn't about to start shouting, nor was his anger directed at her.

Even so, she spoke carefully. "I thought I might get in trouble. I'm sorry, Father."

"The military would only use my research to harm people. In the wrong hands, flame alchemy could destroy this entire country. You understand that, do you not?"

She did not know much of anything about the military, so she nodded dutifully. At least she knew the second half was true. She had watched firsthand it destroyed the man in front of her. "I suppose that General Grumman qualifies as the wrong hands."

"Never speak that name again—not under this roof, not anywhere!" The anger had returned, white hot. Riza didn't press him any further.

* * *

 

After that, apprentices seemed to last an average of two weeks before her father kicked them out, and never longer than a month. To Riza, the years that followed were little more than a sea of names and faces that all seemed to melt together. Only the last one stood out from that mix: frighteningly thin with a narrow face, he had arrived six months after her fifteenth birthday. Though mild, the winter had left them destitute, and her father had accepted the first person who had written about apprenticeship without question.

Engel was the only name on the envelope and when he arrived, she was far too frightened to ask what his given name was. He loomed over her, at least forty centimeters taller than her measly hundred and fifty-eight. And she was afraid. His eyes were an unnerving shade of green. She didn't think she had even seen green eyes before, and certainly not that shade.

She didn't need to wait for her father to ask it. She knew perfectly well why Engel had come to study from her father in particular. The rumors that had spread around about his flame alchemy had led Engel here seeking power. He wanted to use it to burn anyone who might stand in his way, whatever that way might be. Riza shivered and sank against her closed bedroom door. While she knew nothing of the general her father hated so much, she was willing to bet that Robert would have been a better candidate for learning her father's research.

She curled up, pressing her forehead to her knees as she fought back a wave of hot tears. There was no lock on her door. If it wasn't the middle of March, she would run outside and never look back until she had reached the treehouse. She would stay there until she was certain her father had sent Engel away.

Digging her fingernails into her thighs, she forced herself up. She changed into a nightgown and climbed under the covers. She did not want to risk going out into the hall. That night, she dreamed of monstrous men with hard eyes, while she was left unable to run as they closed in around her. In the months and even years that had followed her mother's death, she had learned that the nightmares didn't go away completely, not ever. New ones simply joined with the old.

The morning found Riza shivering in the cold room, drenched in icy sweat. She had no desire to leave her bed. Fisting her hands around the sheets, she dragged the covers up over her head, hoping what little warmth there was in her breath would fill the empty space around her.

In the end, it was hunger that drove her out from the safety of her cocoon. Hunger and duty. Even if she hadn't had an appetite, her father and this new apprentice would demand food from her before too long. She dressed and combed through her hair with her fingers, still wary of spending any amount of time on the same floor as Engel outside the privacy of her bedroom, which she still feared was not all that private to begin with. At least the kitchen provided another form of sanctuary, and if Engel was like other men she had known, he would not dare venture into it of his own accord.

She toasted several slices of bread, spreading jam carefully on each before balancing three slices each on two plates. The plates went on a tray with two cups of tea and she carried it up to the attic, placing it on the table between the two men.

"No coffee?" Engel sneered at the cup of tea for a moment before turning to look at Riza. She took an involuntary step backward.

"N-no, sir. It's very expensive and f-father doesn't like it."

"Expensive," he mocked in a high-pitched tone. "What do you think I'm paying for, girl?"

Riza looked fearfully at her father, hoping he would offer her some solution, some escape. To her relief, he said, "Leave the girl out of this. If you want coffee, you may purchase it for yourself in the village."

That was clearly not the answer Engel wanted to hear but apart from tensing his shoulders, he kept his temper in check. "Very well," he conceded.

For the rest of the day, Riza stayed in her room. She did not even bother making lunch, instead burying her nose in a book of plays that had once been her mother's most treasured possession. Now it was hers. It was very old and she handled the delicate pages carefully. Her favorite play brought little comfort on a day like this. It wasn't a loving prince who had come to this isolated place where she was trapped alone with her father the enchanter. It never had been and it never would be. Hours later, just after sunset, just as she was settling into a familiar story about a girl trapped with her magician father and feeling as though it was familiar for more reason than one, she was interrupted by a sharp knock.

Riza ignored it, forcing herself to concentrate on the words in front of her.

The knock sounded again, louder this time and accompanied by her father's voice calling her name.

"Come in," she said reluctantly as she pressed a scrap of paper into the book to mark her place.

Her father stepped into the room, pulling the door closed behind him. "My apprentice," he said, "is very angry with you. As am I."

"I'm afraid of him, Father," she said. _More afraid than I am of you._

"You know we cannot afford to send him away. There is no one left to take his place."

"Please, Father, I'll do anything. I'll keep my tongue until he goes, just make him leave. I promise I'll find work to make up the difference." She felt almost like crying but kept the tears out of her eyes and her voice without difficulty.

He scoffed. "You're even less likely to find work in this village than I am to find another apprentice. But I don't much care for him either. There are few men I would trust less with the secrets to flame alchemy."

"Thank you."

It took nearly week before her father told Engel to leave, and Riza had stayed late at school that night to avoid getting caught up in the fight she was certain would follow, hoping that her father and the house would still be there when she returned. At least he had had the decency to whisper the news to her when she brought breakfast so she had known to stay away.

Both the house and her father had been fine. Their financial situation had not. But with the rapidly warming air, she had begun to find game again and hunting had brought hope. Toward the end of April, a letter brought even more. Her father had seemed almost pleased when he informed her that Roy Mustang was a boy about her age, who would arrive in July. Riza, however, was not nearly as pleased. She had learned well that few men who wanted to study alchemy were kind. When the date came, she decided, she would meet him at the train station, and if he seemed awful, she would give him directions to the wrong house. She was not going to let another apprentice frighten her into imprisoning herself in her room.

* * *

 

Over two years later, the summer passed as though everything might turn around again. The next time Claire invited her swimming, Riza wore an old shirt she had found left behind in Roy's closet over the swimming suit. Her father's health seemed to improve every day. It was only in August—with the looming threat of another school year and a teacher who wasn't Mrs. Carlisle—that she began to fear the future again. From the day she walked through those doors again, everything began to fall apart again.

Riza's eighteenth birthday came and went and she missed nearly every day of school this term taking care of her father when his illness came back, worse than ever, on the first day of class. She didn't understand it. The summer had stretched almost into October for once, and even December felt strangely warm. _He should be getting better_ , she thought miserably as she carried his tea up the stairs.

He was sitting up in bed, looking old and ill and exhausted. Riza almost felt bad for him. She placed the tea on his nightstand. "It's still hot," she warned.

"Thank you, Riza," he said, drinking it anyway. He did not seem to notice the heat. "There's something else I need you to do for me."

"Yes, Father."

"Send a letter to Roy Mustang; tell him to come at once."

Riza's eyes widened. Had the illness ruined his mind as well as his lungs? "I—I thought you never wanted to see him again."

"I am dying. Surely you have surmised as much."

She had suspected as much for the past week. "I have. Still, I thought you said that no dog of the military would ever be worthy of your research or—" Her throat suddenly felt full of molasses. "Or of me."

"I like to think," said Berthold Hawkeye, coughing with every word, "that he changed his mind. I only hope that he can make it in time."

Riza nodded, still finding speech difficult. She raced down the hall to her bedroom, rifled through her desk, and retrieved two sheets of paper and pen. Hand steady despite her excitement, she wrote a short message to Christmas, instructing her to get the message to Roy as soon as she could. With any luck, he would be on leave for New Year's by the time the letter arrived.

To Roy, she wrote: "Dear Roy, Please come at once. My father is very ill and he wants to see you." Too embarrassed, too unsure of herself after more than a year to write the word love, she signed it, "Your friend, Riza."

In the post script, she added that she wanted to see him as well. In the morning, before school, she would mail it, and that thought carried her through her nighttime routine as though in a dream. Soon, she would see Roy again. Soon, she would feel his arms around her. Soon, she would have to cut off whatever relationship he tried to rekindle because her father would never let her reveal her tattoo to Roy as long as she lived and he would almost certainly continue living out of spite to keep them apart.

With that thought, the dream ended, leaving a very lonely night ahead.


	38. Reunion

Chapter 38: Reunion

The weeks that followed were the longest for Riza since Roy's departure. Her father's cough seemed to be worse every day, and she rarely was able to leave the house. When she needed medicine or food, she ran to the village with lungs burning from the cold, dry air. Thankfully, the roads had stayed clear this winter. On one such trip, about a week after she had posted the letter, she arrived in town just in time to see the train pull into the station. Ignoring the guilt she felt at delaying her return, she sprinted the last few blocks to the station without feeling a trace of the exhaustion that had had set in toward the end of her run.

Only a few people had gotten off the train, all of them familiar faces but none of them friendly. There were no dark-haired city boys, no soldiers with eyes that brightened when they caught sight of her. Surely her letter would have arrived by now. Three days before the new year and no word, no sight of him; she had secretly hoped they would be able to spend the holiday together again but now it seemed unlikely. Claire had sent an invitation to a party with a handwritten note scrawled underneath, wishing her well and her father good health so she could come. Riza didn't much care for parties, but the thought of spending the night alone when she could have been with a friend only compounded the loneliness she had felt these past few months.

With a heavy heart, she made her way to the drugstore. A new antibiotic for the pneumonia that refused to budge, that she suspected had morphed into bronchitis sometime in the last few months, cost more than twice as much as she had with brought her. She had already tried everything else she had deemed safe after hours and hours of poring over her mother's old medical books. Books she supposed she soon would have to sell to make ends meet, even though she desperately needed them to aid in her efforts to nurse her father back to health.

Though a growing sense of despair gripped her heart, she refused to show it as she walked out of the store. She still had enough money to buy a little food, and she had set a series of snares in the woods that she would check as well. Hopefully there would be enough rabbits to make a nice stew, something to warm the ice from her fingers and stave off the gnawing hunger. She had given her father a heel of bread slathered with the last of the jam for breakfast. There had been nothing left for her but a little tea, but he had been so ill that she hadn't dared leave him alone until now.

The grocery store made her feel a little better for once. The prices were higher than she would have liked, of course, but they were no different than she was used to, and the necessities were affordable with what little she had left. Eggs, butter, flour, yeast, salt, sugar, carrots, and green beans were stacked carefully in a sack once she had parted with her change. The weight of it all comforted her as she carried it back up the hill. It was too heavy to run with, and her arms were weak from hunger, but knowing that she would be able to eat something soon was comforting.

Once she arrived home, she began measuring and mixing the ingredients for bread. It was a mindless task and she shifted her attention out the window, watching the murder of crows gathered in the bare branches of the apple tree. If her snares hadn't worked, she supposed she could always use them for target practice. The meat was safe if cooked properly, even if there wasn't much to the birds once the feathers were stripped away. There were plenty of them to pick off, at least. She vaguely remembered telling Roy about the winter when she had been forced to eat them and wondered what he would think if the first meal she served him when he came back was crow and carrot stew. He'd probably laugh and pretend to choke after the first bite before telling her she was a miracle worker to make it edible.

And then she would smile because it was so nice to have him back, so nice to have someone who thanked her for things, even if she found it somewhat irritating to be thanked for the little things she did almost without thinking. Still, it was better than her father's stony silence. Not once since he had fallen ill had he thanked her for a meal, for medicine, for the all-night vigils she had been keeping by his bedside with increasing frequency.

Once the dough was mixed, she placed it in the oven at a low temperature. It would never rise quickly enough otherwise. Satisfied with her work, she hung her apron on a hook, tucked a sack under her arm, and slung her rifle over her shoulder just in case larger game crossed her path.

The snares had caught four rabbits, and thankfully the crows hadn't touched them yet. She set to work removing the bodies and stuffing them into her sack. It was quick work, and not particularly messy thanks to the cold. It kept the smell at bay as well, which she was equally grateful for. She sat on the back step to clean them, throwing the skins to the raucous crows that hopped just out of reach. There was less meat on the rabbits than she had hoped for, but it would be enough for a week if she rationed it well. She went inside to finish preparing dinner with the birds still squabbling behind her.

It turned out that both the stew and the bread lasted longer than Riza had expected them to. Feeding her father had gone from a chore to all but impossible as 1905 rolled around. She was lucky if she could coax him to eat even a tiny bowl and half a slice of buttered bread a day. The nights were getting worse as well, and after three in a row spent at his side, sleeping only when she was too tired to keep her eyes open and even then only for a few minutes at a time. She wished they could afford to take him to the hospital, where nurses could watch him in shifts and take much better care of him than she could hope to. More than ever, she needed her mother back. She would know exactly what to do, and her presence would probably give her father more of an incentive to get better than a life poring over the same old books and being waited on by Riza. His research was complete, she knew, since it was etched permanently into her back.

One night, she was so tired from washing dishes after dinner, that she went into the dining room to sleep. The chairs were softer than the ones in the kitchen but still uncomfortable enough that she wouldn't oversleep. _Just fifteen minutes_ , she told herself as her arms curled protectively around her head, shutting out the last light of sunset through the window.

She was vaguely aware that someone was shouting. It had gotten dark and she had apparently been asleep much longer than she'd intended. She stood up immediately, toppling the chair and bruising her ankle on one of the upturned legs as she raced out into the hall. The light was on, though she hadn't left it that way. Fear seized her heart but she continued up the stairs, but then she heard the shouting again, saying to call for a doctor. Roy. That was Roy's voice, a little deeper, a little more frightened than she'd heard it before, but she would know it anywhere. She skidded around the corner to her father's doorway to see Roy holding her father, a pool of blood on the floor between them.

Her fingers curled into fists against the doorframe and she shrank against it in fear. There had been blood before, the past few days, but never this much. As though he could sense her presence now, Roy turned, eyes wide, face pale.

"RIZA!" The fear, the despair in his voice frightened her but she managed to pull herself away from the doorframe and into the room, one foot mechanically moving in front of the other as she approached the bed. Roy had come back at last but her father was dead. "What are you waiting for? Go for a doctor, and hurry!" he said as she stopped by the foot of the bed.

She shook her head. "It's too late, Roy. He's already gone."

Refusing to believe her, Roy shook his former master's shoulders. "Master Hawkeye? Are you—?" He gave up when there was no response from the body in his arms. That seemed to be all the confirmation he needed. Carefully, Roy slid the man back under the covers, resting his head on the pillow and closing his eyelids with a gentle hand. Before he turned back to Riza, he wiped his face on the sleeve of his uniform. She wondered if he was trying to hide tears or sweat or both. "I'm sorry," he said. Though he was facing her, he wasn't able to meet her eyes.

"It's not your fault," she said gently. "I'm the one who fell asleep when I should have been watching him."

"No, I should have come back sooner. I got your letter two weeks ago, Riza. I should have come right away but I thought my aunt could use the extra help getting ready for New Year's since I was on leave from the academy." He sank onto the edge of the mattress, not noticing or caring that it wasn't far enough; he slipped off and sank to the floor at her feet, burying his head in his hands. "Fuck, Riza, what are we going to do?"

Riza knelt in front of him, staring at him until he met her eyes. "In the morning," she said when he finally looked up, "we'll go down to the village with the body. It's too dark and too cold now."

"You're telling me. I almost thought I'd have to spend the night in town after the train got delayed by a storm in the mountains." Roy drummed his fingers against his knee as he looked at Riza with such intensity that she had to turn away. Perhaps he still cared for her the same as before, perhaps he still was the same boy he had been when she had seen him off at the station so long ago. Perhaps he was because she swore she could still see the old affection in those eyes

Chewing her bottom lip, Riza looked nervously up at the bed. She could think of nothing more to say with her heart hammering a rough and painful staccato louder than she could make her voice at the moment. One of Roy's hands closed over her own, bringing her attention back down to the floor. She pulled her hand away as though it were on fire. It didn't matter how he felt about her or she about him when the mark on her back meant that she could never have a relationship with anyone—not even Roy. Sooner or later, and she supposed sooner based on the way she felt about him, things would reach a point of no return, where she would either have to decide that she trusted him completely or lie and say she wasn't interested in him anymore.

"I'm so sorry, Riza," he said, sympathy mingling with the affection in his eyes. "I've been talking about myself and you're the one who lost her father tonight."

Riza shrugged sadly. "He was more of a father to you than to me. For the past year, he's been my patient more than my family."

"I'm sorry," he said again. "If I had known…"

"You couldn't have done anything," she said. This time she put her hand on his. He hadn't moved it after she had jerked away.

"I would have come to make sure he was given proper treatment. I could have sent someone with money if that didn't work." He gave her a regretful smile. "I guess there's no need to dwell on that now. You look exhausted."

"I don't know if I'll sleep tonight," she admitted. "I had a nap before you got here anyway."

"So that's where you were. At first I thought you might've gone out," Roy said.

Riza frowned at him. "So you just let yourself in?"

"I knocked and no one answered. Besides, you left the door unlocked." He shrugged, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"That's because no one comes out this way," she countered, the words calling up a faint recollection of their first day together.

"Well _I_ did."

For a moment, it felt like they were young again, which, Riza realized, was a strange thought. They were still young, after all, and neither of them had really been innocent for a very long time. As though he could read her scattered thoughts on her face, Roy scooted closer across the wood floor and pulled her into his arms. She tensed as his hands fisted into the back of her cardigan even though she knew he couldn't see what was beneath.

"Sorry," he said, starting to pull away. "You probably aren't used to this anymore, are you?"

"You just startled me a bit." It was half the truth anyway. She returned the embrace and he pulled her close again. Even though she knew she couldn't let herself fall back into a romantic relationship with him, she let herself enjoy this. Roy's hugs were still the best in the world and he'd been giving them to her since the beginning of their friendship, when neither of them would have dreamed other feelings would develop between them. It felt so good to be in his arms again that she let go of the pain she had been holding in, and soon, her tears stained the shoulder of his uniform.

Roy's arms tightened around her as her body shook with silent sobs. "It's okay, Riza. Let it all out. I'm right here. I'm right here."

She cried for longer than she wanted to, shedding tears for her father, for the man he should have been and once was, for the lonely months she had spent taking care of him, for herself and the horrible, ugly tattoo on her back, and for the future she and Roy could never have because of it. She cried because she was exhausted and didn't know how to stop, because the sun would rise and Roy would inevitably leave again and she had no idea what would become of her, and all the while, he held her and whispered soothing things in her ear and she could have sworn she felt a few of his tears land in her hair. She cried because he had come back here for nothing and soon she would lose him all over again because she didn't dare ask him to stay or tell him how she felt about him. And sometime still well before sunrise, the tears ran dry, but they remained holding each other on the floor of her father's bedroom until dawn added its light to that of the lamp that shone above them on the nightstand.


	39. Preparations

The rising sun pulled them apart. They both needed sleep, but first they needed to get Riza's father to town. There would be time for them to rest later. Time for sleep and stories and figuring out how the hell she was going to pay for a funeral. She would have to sell the house, that much was certain, but she had no idea where she would go from here. To go with Roy would be foolish even if a relationship between them were possible because he would be returning to the Academy once he left. She didn't want to think about how much it would hurt to lose him again so soon, even though she had known well before sending the letter that had brought him back that she would never be able to keep him.

"You should put a coat on first," Roy said as they stood on stiff legs.

Riza shook her head. "It's not that cold out. We need to hurry."

They stood side by side as Riza turned down the covers, exposing her father's body. The first thing she noticed was the smell, which had somehow escaped her attention before, perhaps because she had been so focused on her grief. As imposing and frightening as he had been in life, death made her father look fragile. His body had turned stiff and cold and pale overnight, making him more of a ghastly statue than the temperamental alchemist she knew. Had known.

"We should have done this last night," she said, nose wrinkling involuntarily at the mess of congealed blood on the floor and combined smells of excretion and death.

Roy shook his head as he reached for his former master's shoulders. "You weren't up to it," he said gently. "You needed to grieve privately first, though I'm surprised you cried as long as you did."

"So am I." Between the shock and her exhaustion and the mixed emotions she felt at seeing Roy again, she supposed she shouldn't have been. These were the pent up tears from all the times she had wished she could cry in the time since he had left, and plenty from the years before that. Her father had been distant and cold and outright cruel at times, but she still couldn't bring herself to feel anything but sadness at his death. He had been family, and now she had no one permanent left in her life.

Without another word passing between them, she leaned forward to take her father's ankles. They hoisted him from the bed and out into the hall.

"I'll go down first," Roy offered.

"No, I know this house better." She thought she saw an argument flickering in his eyes but he nodded all the same. Bickering would only delay them.

Riza guided them down easily, though opening the door was difficult with her hands full. Roy had an even harder time closing it behind them as he supported most of the weight. The academy training must have helped in that regard. For a moment, she was almost grateful for the time he had spent there. Almost.

By the time they made it to town, Riza's arms were shaking from exertion and hunger, something she could not hide from Roy no matter how hard she tried. "I can carry him the rest of the way," he said.

"No, I'm fine. We're almost there." She wasn't fine, of course, but she knew she could manage for another three blocks.

With two blocks left, she could feel the weakness spreading to her legs. One block left and she almost thought she would have to give in. Then she stumbled back through the hospital door that a nurse held open.

"Is that Berthold Hawkeye?" she asked in astonishment.

Riza looked over her shoulder. She recognized the woman from the days when her mother had worked here. "He died last night," she said, fighting to keep her voice steady.

"You've certainly grown up. The last time I saw you, you were a tiny little thing," the nurse said with a sort of fondness that grated on Riza. If she really cared, she might have made an effort to see Riza since her mother had died instead of simply trying to distract her from the obvious fact of her father's death.

Riza made no effort to respond; she only looked helplessly at Roy as her arms shook even more violently. At last, someone arrived with a gurney, and she and Roy deposited the body. He moved forward to pull her into his arms but she held up her own in protest as she watched the man wheel her father away.

"Now," the nurse said once Berthold Hawkeye was completely out of sight, "I'm not sure how much you've thought about the funeral, but—"

"I'll take care of it," Roy said quickly. "Everything. Whatever it costs to keep him in your morgue, the coffin, funeral arrangements. Whatever he needs."

"Who are you?" the nurse asked. The question had clearly been on her mind ever since he had arrived with Riza and her father.

"I was his apprentice, and he told me to look after Riza so I'm going to start by getting some food in her and then I'll come back to discuss Mr. Hawkeye." He put his hands on Riza's shoulders protectively and guided her out of the hospital. If the nurse said anything in response, she didn't hear it over the blood rushing in her ears. The adrenaline that had fueled her through the night and the first part of the morning had finally worn off, leaving her numb.

It wasn't until they were safely in the café across the street that Riza began to feel close to normal again. Roy had said something she couldn't quite make out so she turned to him with a questioning expression.

"What do you want for breakfast?" he asked patiently. His hands were still on her shoulders, fingers gently massaging the soreness from her muscles.

She looked up at the menu until the letters formed themselves into words and prices. "Toast's fine," she murmured sleepily.

"You're starving and it's my treat. Get whatever you like."

It was a familiar conversation, and she could almost see him sitting across the white-draped table from him on their first date. Their only real date, unless she counted their walks and fishing trips and days spent swimming beneath the waterfall. "Blueberry pancakes," she said. "Sausage, too, if that's alright."

"Of course it is." He ordered scrambled eggs and coffee for himself and they found a table in the corner to sit at in silence, Roy looking at Riza and Riza at the whorls in the wood.

"Did he really tell you that?" she asked, her eyes still tracing the dark lines in front of her. She could feel Roy's eyes on her. The force of his gaze felt as though it might burn her skin.

"Tell me what?" he asked.

"To look after me." She looked up at him then, and she could read the truth in his face even before he nodded. "Why?"

Roy shifted as though the question made him uncomfortable. "Equivalent exchange, I guess. You took care of him."

"It makes sense in a way. With Mother dead and both of them estranged from their families, I wouldn't even know where to start looking to find someone else to rely on." She looked at him, thinking back on a time when she would have given anything to leave this place with him, and wondered if he was remembering the same things.

"Do you have any plans?" he asked. His face didn't show any sign of nostalgia, only polite concern.

She shrugged. "I've kept up on my studies. It shouldn't be too hard for me to find work, or to go to a university if I can make enough from selling the house."

There was nothing more to say after that. The food came and Riza wolfed hers down. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten anything so good. Roy ate slowly; he seemed more interested in making sure she got her fill than in finishing his own meal. He even tipped half of his scrambled eggs onto her plate.

Full to bursting, Riza set her fork down and sipped at her orange juice until the glass was empty. They left the café then, with Roy watching her as though prepared to catch her should she fall asleep mid-step on the way home. In the end, she was grateful for the attention. She almost slipped on the stairs and Roy steadied her, keeping his hands on her elbows the rest of the way to her room.

"I thought that side was your room," Roy said as she opened the door opposite the one he indicated.

"It was too drafty," she said. She didn't want to admit that she had slept in his bed to try and remember his scent after he left, not when she was trying so hard to stop her heart from aching for him. She shut the door in his face before he had a chance to say anything else.

When she woke, the sun had already begun to set and she chided herself for sleeping so long. She was hungry again, which came as an even bigger surprise than the time, but she could smell something cooking and made her way downstairs to investigate.

Roy was still wearing his uniform, though the heavy coat was draped over the back of one of the chairs. He wore her apron in its place, and she couldn't help but smile at the sight. "Did you sleep well?" he asked without turning around.

"Like a rock," she said. "Did you?"

"Didn't sleep. I went back to town instead. The funeral's the day after tomorrow and I ran into a friend of yours. I'm glad you found someone to keep you company while I was away."

Riza said nothing in response. She would eat and thank him for cooking—and for breakfast, which she had forgotten to thank him for—but then she would go back upstairs and close her door and her heart as best she could. It was only two more days and he would surely take the train out of here after that. Back to his old life, back to the military, and one day into the arms and bed of a woman who wasn't her: a woman who didn't have to hide a terrible secret from the world. She could feel tears stinging her eyes again but she forced them away before Roy carried dinner to the table.

The first thing she noticed was that her plate was piled high with fruit: grapes, cherries, and a pear surrounded the pork chop in the center. Roy's plate had only a few grapes surrounding the meat.

"I figured you probably ran out of apples a while back," he said.

Riza muttered a thank you and took a bite of the pear, trying not to think how much it must have cost. When she had finished eating, she carried her plate to the sink, washed it, and said goodnight before heading up to her room again. A small part of her wanted to trust him, to tell him everything that had happened since he had gone and to share the burden of her father's research with him, but he had spoken so little of himself since returning and there was something about the things he did say that made her wonder if he was hiding something. It wasn't like the Roy she had known to keep secrets from her.

 _Then again,_ she realized, _he probably thinks the same about me._

After sleeping all day, she wasn't tired enough to go back to sleep just yet, so she cracked open a well-worn novel and settled against her pillow to read about a girl who lived on the border between two warring kingdoms. It was a grim book, but the ending was happy enough, and that was exactly what she needed at the moment. Her life was hard now, but someday, she hoped, someday it would get better.

She had just begun chapter three when there was a knock at the door. "I'm going to bed now," Roy's voice said through the wood. "Do you need anything?"

"No, thank you. Goodnight," she said.

"Goodnight, Riza. If you change your mind, let me know."

She heard his door shut and curled into a tighter ball, gripping the pages of her book as though they were a lifeline. There was nothing in the world she wanted more than to barge in there and question him until she knew she could still trust him completely, but this wasn't the time for it. He had been up all night and spent the day making sure everything was settled so she could sleep. He deserved a chance to do the same. She turned her attention back to the book, willing herself to get lost in the story so that she no longer had to think about her own.


	40. The Funeral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unless something goes wrong, I should be back to regular updates from here on out. Thanks for reading/reviewing!
> 
> Italicized dialogue comes from episode 30 of the Brotherhood dub.

Roy must have understood her desire for space. Though he had showed up at meal times with a heaping plate of food and a cup of tea and brought water at regular intervals between, he never spoke, only looked at her with a mixture of affection, sympathy, and concern. She wanted to tell him everything.

Every time she heard his footsteps in the hall outside her room, she resolved that, if he said anything, she would hold onto the conversation until she knew how much he had changed, but he never did. He wasn't the same Roy anymore, she knew, but neither was she the same Riza, and if she could still love and want to trust him, he could still love and be trusted by her. She just needed proof of something beyond his painful silence and careful attention.

At least he had changed out of his uniform. In regular pants and a green knit sweater, he looked more like himself and less like a bad memory. She had been too upset to dwell on it at the time, but when Roy had held her on the night of her father's death, she had been reminded of another soldier whose arms had wrapped around her, though his grip had been more like that of a snake while Roy had embraced her as a friend. Or a lover, she supposed. It was hard to tell in hindsight. The whole thing had seemed like a nightmare, and she could taste raspberries whenever she thought of it: under-ripe and painfully tart, unlike the ones from that summer day when Roy had tried to rescue her from a soldier instead of becoming one himself.

There was a knock at the bathroom door. "Are you ready to go, Riza?" Roy asked.

She took one last look at herself in the mirror. Her black dress made her look unusually pale. It wasn't the best dress for a funeral either, seeing as it strapless and above the knee, but it was the only remotely suitable outfit she owned that still fit. At least she had a matching jacket to put over it that would hide the upper part of her tattoo. It was almost amusing, if somewhat frightening, to think of showing up with part of it exposed, thereby disrespecting her father while she was supposed to be paying her final respects.

Straight-faced, she opened the door. Roy was wearing the uniform again but this time, she grudgingly admitted to herself that it was appropriate: black and heavy and driving them apart now that her father wasn't here to do that himself.

The sky outside was bright blue and almost painful to look at with the early afternoon sun high above them. She envied Roy his boots, but she had refused the coat when he offered it to her and numb feet were no worse than numb fingers or a numb heart. With a bitter smile that she hoped Roy wouldn't notice, she thought that a numb heart was actually an improvement on a broken one. Her smile faltered when she glanced over at him; she wasn't quite numb yet, after all.

No more words passed between them as they walked after he had asked if she wanted to wear the coat that was clearly too big for her, though it was the lack contract that stung her more. Holding hands had been a natural part of their friendship well before either of them had begun to entertain any thoughts of romance. It was those thoughts, she supposed, that made things so difficult now. If nothing apart from friendship had ever existed between them, would speaking come easier? Would she know already—from instinct or from his words—that somewhere beneath the soldier Roy had become was the idealistic friend she missed so dearly? The questions haunted her the rest of the way to the church.

Father Eckhart greeted them at the door and she understood immediately why Roy had decided to have the funeral here. He had remembered her friendship with the old preacher and decided that it was more important than his master's disdain for religion. Funerals, after all, were for the living and Riza knew nothing of the funeral home's director apart from his fear of her father. True, it was something they had in common, but her fear had not expanded to include herself or, in spite of the misgivings she had developed since his return, Roy.

She was surprised at how many people had gathered in the pews. It seemed as though a good portion of the town had turned up for confirmation that the terrifying alchemist was truly dead. But then she spotted Claire and Ms. Carlisle among the crowd, halfway up with room to spare beside them. Riza led Roy forward and they squeezed into the pew with her newer friends. Claire pressed her hand sympathetically.

"Thank you," Riza whispered.

Ms. Carlisle leaned past them both to shake Roy's hand. "So you're Riza's soldier," she said. "It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too," Roy said with an awkward smile. Riza hadn't had the chance or really the inclination to tell him much about her other friends. The thought of Roy dying like Ms. Carlisle's brother still weighed heavy in her heart and she didn't want to spread the same fear to him.

Sandwiched between Roy and Claire, Riza felt warmer than she had since leaving the shower, but when she spied the coffin at the front of the church, her blood turned cold. It was closed; if that had been Roy's decision, she would thank him for it later. Still, seeing it reminded her of why she was here and of the unknown future that awaited her after today. Roy would spend one more night, she knew, because the train would leave too soon after the funeral for him to make it home to pack first. But after that, she did not know.

Once everyone had settled into a pew and quieted down, Father Eckhart made his way down the aisle to stand beside the coffin. He cleared his throat and began to speak, but Riza had trouble listening to the eulogy with Roy fidgeting beside her. Her eyes remained dry, though it came as no surprise to her; she hadn't cried at all since Roy had let go of her the morning they took her father's body to the hospital.

Silence fell and Roy got to his feet, leaving Riza feeling very exposed. He walked down the aisle and whispers started up again as people spread their gossip about the alchemist soldier. A few heads turned to her with expressions she struggled to read. Fear, she knew well, but if she had to take a guess, it was mixed with either disgust or pity in each face. She knew the rumors and she could feel Claire squirming with guilt beside her as she apparently noticed the stares as well. It was her fault, in part, that some in the room believed they were about to hear a eulogy from a man who had taken advantage of the timid girl who had just lost her father. She suspected some of the whispers were about what obscene things he might have done to or with her in the time since his return.

"I have been asked to say a few words about Master Hawkeye," Roy began with a confidence that surprised her. "I have not known him as long as some of you, but I feel as though I did get to know him in a way few people have, excepting, of course, his daughter." He nodded toward Riza, who forced an encouraging smile. She knew it was taboo to speak ill of the dead, but to hear his life sugar-coated was not something she would ever be prepared for. "He was not a perfect man. Brilliant, yes, but terribly flawed in the way he withdrew from the world, including the person who needed him most. Alchemy is not meant to harm but to make lives easier; that's what he always told me. He is no longer here to demonstrate this idea to anyone, nor do I think he did while he was, but as his apprentice, I plan to use what he taught me to help as much as I can to protect the people I love." His eyes fixed on Riza again. "I only wish he could be here to see that."

There was nothing else to be said. Riza had no desire to make a speech and no one else had known him. Most of the pews emptied quickly with only a handful of doctors and nurses who must have known Riza's mother making their way to the front to help Roy and Father Eckhart lift the coffin. The funeral procession consisted of Riza, Claire, and Ms. Carlisle trailing behind the coffin. It wasn't far from the church to the graveyard, but it felt as though it stretched forever to Riza, and probably even longer to the pallbearers.

At last, they stood before the open grave and lowered the coffin down with some difficulty. There was already a headstone waiting to be set in the ground beside her mother's. Roy really had taken care of everything. He moved to stand beside Riza as the gravediggers took over, shoveling dirt into the hole and replacing the grass on top of it. Claire patted her shoulder sympathetically and started to offer a handkerchief before she noticed that Riza's eyes were dry. She tucked the cloth away again.

The gravediggers moved the headstone into place; Riza noticed that her mother's old colleagues had vanished. Once everything was settled, Ms. Carlisle and Claire each gave her a quick hug before heading back to town. Father Eckhart pressed a bouquet into her arms and did the same. With a quick glance at Roy, she knelt to place the flowers on the grave.

She stood up again, taking a step backward so that she was right beside Roy; the two of them looked at the graves in silence for a long stretch, but with the sun warm on her black clothing, she didn't mind the cold anymore. Within a day, Roy would be gone and she would be alone. There was still so much she wanted and needed to say to him.

" _You've done so much. I don't think I can ever thank you enough,"_ she said, thinking of the comfort he had provided on that first night, the costs of the funeral and all related items, and the way he had made sure she ate properly.

" _It's the least I could do after everything he's taught me."_ It stung a bit to hear that, but it was selfish to think that his giving her father a proper sendoff was about her, even if it did relieve her stress. Then, he held out a card. _"You should take this. You can call me in the military if you need to,"_ he said.

He hadn't forgotten her after all. Riza accepted the card, noting the information on it: an address and phone number for the academy, as well as specifics to ensure that letters and calls reached him. She looked up in surprise. It would certainly be easier than relying on Christmas to relay information, especially if she moved somewhere with a telephone.

" _Let me guess. You also don't approve of me becoming a soldier,"_ he said. Riza kept her face expressionless as possible even though she felt slightly guilty about the time she had spent avoiding him. _"Your father told me soldiers are left to die like trash on the side of the road. That may be, but I know it's the only way to make a difference, and I know I'll never be happy if I don't try to make this country a better place."_

That was him. That was the Roy she knew: the Roy she could trust with her friendship, her life, and with the potent research embedded in her skin. She turned to look at him, breath catching in her throat, but as soon as she caught his eye, he turned away.

" _Man, that must have sounded pretty childish, huh?"_ he said.

Riza looked away, smiling. As though she would think less of him for still having the same high-minded ideals he had had two years before. _"Not at all,"_ she said kindly. _"There's nothing childish about caring. I'd like to believe that you're serious about this, that you really do care. Can I trust you, Roy, with my father's research?"_

Roy stiffened. "I know he said you had it, but I don't want to impose. If he didn't want anyone in the military to know, then—"

"He's dead," Riza said firmly. "The research is mine to pass on now, and I want you to have it."

"You don't have to do that. I know you've been waiting to be rid of me ever since I got back. You have every right to hate me for leaving you alone with him, I understand. You don't owe me anything. This—all of this—I did it to repay a debt, and yes, because I still care about you, but I don't want to wear out my welcome any longer than I have, or take the notes away from you."

Riza fought back a fit of sardonic laughter. If only he could. In as mild a tone as she could manage, she said, "The notes can't go back with you to Central, but if you're still interested in learning flame alchemy, I can take you home and show them to you. You're free to stay for as long as you need to decode them."

"Riza, I—"

"I insist." She repositioned herself between him and the grave and looked at him until their eyes met. "Now let's go back before we catch colds."

The sun was setting by the time they returned to the house, and once again, Riza had refused his jacket, saying she would trip on it anyway. He'd grown taller while he was away, something he seemed proud of when she mentioned it to him. Inside, he started up the stairs but she stopped him.

"In here," she said, leading him into the living room.

"In one of those crates?" Roy asked incredulously. "All this time, they were in there?"

"No," Riza said. Her back was to him now and she peeled the bodice of her dress down to her hips. "I need you to swear that I can trust my back to you."

"Your back? Riza, you don't mean to tell me—"

"Yes." She could feel his eyes boring into her and slipped the jacket from her shoulders to expose the tattoo.

Once it had fallen to the ground, she wrapped her arms around her chest for both warmth and modesty. She could hear Roy straining behind her and glanced over her shoulder to see him with gritted teeth and clenched fists.

"He was a monster," Roy said in a tone of barely concealed rage. "He was a fucking monster and you had to sit there listening to me praise him. Riza, I'm so sorry. If I'd known, I never would have… When did he do it? It had to be after I left because I've seen your back before and it wasn't like this."

"My birthday," she whispered. "The year you left."

She watched him open and close his mouth several times, unsure what to say. At last, he let out a heavy sigh. "Put your clothes back on. I want to talk to you, and it's hard when you look so uncomfortable."

Riza pulled the dress back up but left her jacket on the floor. She sank onto the couch and let her shoes fall off as she lifted her feet to tuck them under her. Removing his coat first, Roy sat beside her and draped it over her shoulders like a blanket. She clutched it to her chest gratefully.

"I shouldn't have left you here," he said in a hollow voice.

"Roy, you couldn't have known. Please don't blame yourself. It was my decision. I told him I would conceal the research for him." She reached one hand out through a bunched sleeve to try to take one of his own but he pulled it away.

Shaking his head, Roy looked at her as though she was out of her mind. "Riza, he used you. You were a seventeen-year-old who wanted to please her father. He's the one who hurt you, but if I had been here, I could have talked you out of it. If I had bought you a ticket to Central, you wouldn't have even been here." Elbows resting on his knees, he buried his face in his hands. "What kind of life did he expect you to have? How did he expect you to fall in love with someone, get married, have kids—have a normal existence—when you have to conceal something so dangerous from everyone around you?"

"To be fair," she said, leaning forward to place her hand on his shoulder, "I think he trusted you all along. If he told you I had his research, told you to take care of me, I think that was his blessing."

"His blessing?" Roy turned his head to stare at her, confused.

"He knew how we felt about each other. He probably expected that I'd run off and marry you someday just like Mother did with him. And I'd bring you the alchemic secrets you wanted as a wedding present."

Roy's expression soured and Riza flinched, pulling back into the safety of his coat and the corner of the couch. "That's bullshit. What if you fell in love with someone else? What if I died? He hated me; he told me the last time I saw him that I wasn't worthy of you or his research. He probably had some sick plan to marry you off to whoever he saw fit as a package deal." He shuddered at the thought and Riza found it heinous as well.

"What if that person was you?"

He held out his hands, open-palmed for her to take them. When she didn't, he said, "I wouldn't marry anyone against her will, especially not someone as important to me as you are."

Their eyes met and held for the first time that day, and Riza had to swallow her words so she didn't tell him that, though she didn't want to risk having children—and surely he would understand that because he was an orphan too—she wanted to try building a life with him someday. The bond she had formed with him over the year they had lived together, their similar pasts and ideals, the way he was looking at her now—couldn't he see that she wanted to be with him, how much it had killed her to know that the tattoo on her back had taken her freedom to do just that?

Then his arms were around her, crushing her to his chest even tighter than he had that first night. "I missed you," he said. "I've been so worried about you ever since I left. I got your first letter and I hoped you'd send more. I can't tell you how relieved I was to hear from you last month."

"I tried to write, but I wanted to tell you everything, and I couldn't mention the tattoo."

"If you had, I'd have come here and I might have killed your father myself," he said. "I never would have dreamed of using it unless you asked me to."

She struggled to get her arms through the jacket to hug him back. It would have been difficult enough even if he wasn't squeezing her so hard she thought she'd burst. "I didn't know if you'd changed or not until after the funeral. Even if I had known you were the same as ever, letters can be intercepted."

"We have a code, remember?" His breath ruffled her hair and she laughed into his chest: half from relief, half from her happiness at having her best friend back and by her side for at least a little while.

"Speaking of codes," she said in a more serious tone, "there's one you need to decrypt."

"I think it can wait until we've gotten some rest," he said. He released her from his embrace but she didn't go far, only sat up on her heels to get a better look at his face, drinking it in and trying to memorize it as though she would wake up and find that this had only been a long and messy dream.

"I'm not tired yet," she said.

Roy shook his head. "I am. And I'll bet you _are_ hungry. Why don't we make dinner together, for old time's sake?"

With dinner settling in her stomach two hours later, Riza felt a touch of anxiety settle beside it. They had returned to the living room and taken up their old positions on the couch and now her hands played with the edges of the jacket she had put on once more, waiting for Roy's cue to take it off and turn around for him to examine her back. It never came; he sat staring at his hands in his lap, silent after cooking and eating and talking about nothing while they did. She missed the teasing even if it had felt like little more than a mask to hide their reluctance to talk about anything of substance. He was tired, though; she could see it in his eyes that he had hardly slept since he'd been here. She was about to tell him to go to bed when he sat upright, suddenly alert.

He studied her for a moment, as though her face were as complicated as the array on her back. It wasn't a comparison she found appealing. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"I'm not sure how I feel about this arrangement," he said, cupping his chin in one hand. His eyes were just as intense as before, though he seemed to be drinking it in rather than studying it now. Trying to make up for lost time. When Riza said nothing, he continued, "Using your back, I mean. It feels wrong to ask you to expose yourself like that."

"I'll admit it's not ideal, but it is my choice," she said.

He still looked doubtful, sitting back and tipping his head toward the ceiling as his arms folded in front of his chest. "What if I sketched it?" he asked. "It would take a few hours at most and then I could study it without—"

"No."

"I wouldn't leave the house with it, and I would destroy it once I was finished," he said. "You can trust me, remember?"

"Maybe I can't. I didn't let my father do this just for you to make paper copies willy-nilly. Accidents happen, Roy; that's why he entrusted it to me and not a secret scrap of paper tucked away in one of his books." She let go of her jacket to wrap her arms tightly around herself, keeping out the chill that had crept back into the fire-lit room. Keeping Roy at a distance.

"I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to ask." He leaned forward suddenly, staring straight into the fire. Just for a moment, she could see her father on the night of her mother's funeral and she shied away from him, fingernails digging into the sleeves of her jacket. "Is something wrong?" he asked, turning his head to look up at her, dark hair in his eyes.

"Just a bad memory," she muttered. To her relief, he didn't press the question, only smiled and held out a hand. She took it. This was Roy, after all. He was nothing like the man her father had become.

They passed several minutes like this, and good memories slowly moved to replace the bad. They had spent many happy days here together, had spent the night sleeping in front of the fire on this very cushion. The memory brought a stirring sensation in her stomach that wasn't entirely unpleasant. "That's why, isn't it?"

"You lost me there," he said.

"Why you don't want to study from my back. It would be too intimate, too… When you left, you were somewhere between my friend and my boyfriend. You're afraid this would tip the scale too far toward the latter, aren't you?" Certainly the thought of studying from Roy's naked back would have done the same for her, and not knowing whether or not he was interested in picking up where they had left off would have made her very uncomfortable with the whole situation. She would have thought it was obvious from what she'd said earlier about marriage that she was more than interested, but his reaction left her wondering if he had realized that.

Roy inhaled sharply. "I've been gone a long time. I abandoned you. He put that—that _thing_ on your back because I wasn't here to learn it directly from him. Wouldn't you feel guilty pursuing a relationship with you, if you were me?"

"Yes, I suppose I would," she admitted. A part of her wanted to blame him, but if he had stayed, he would have regretted it too and they both knew that. "Why don't we start back at friends for now?"

"I don't even deserve that," he said.

She frowned and reached forward to give his arm a gentle shove, the way she would have two years ago. "Yes, you do. You're still my best friend, remember?"

"And you're mine." He almost smiled; it reached his eyes before his lips. "I have more friends now though, and I wish you could meet them."

"Friends from the academy?" she asked and he nodded. "What are they like?"

She sat transfixed as he told her a story of the cadet who always took the last quiche until one day, Roy got there first. Maes Hughes. How they had become friends the day Roy had tried to rescue an Ishvalan cadet named Heathcliff Erbe from bullies and how the three of them had become inseparable afterward, even getting in trouble together. As she listened, she realized to her surprise that she wasn't even jealous. She was happy he hadn't been alone there, and when the story was finished, she gave him a small smile.

"I'd love to meet them someday," she said.

"I did promise to take you to Central once." He cocked his head to the side. "And what about you? I met your friends at the funeral."

Against her better judgment, Riza told him everything, starting with Ms. Carlisle. Roy kept a straight face when she mentioned the day she had spent comforting her grieving teacher after her brother had been killed in Ishval.

"I won't be sent there," he promised when she looked at him questioningly. "They're taking soldiers from the East and I'm in Central. Besides, it's too small a task for State Alchemists."

"It's been going on for years. Surely if it were a small task like you say, it would be over by now." He didn't offer any argument so she continued, this time telling him about the slow change in Claire, how she had apologized for spreading rumors and protected Riza from her ex-boyfriend. Roy tensed when she mentioned that he had been one of the boys who had hurt her when she'd stood up for him.

The fire was almost out by the time she finished talking. The talk of the years they had spent apart made her feel closer to Roy again, and he had edged nearer to her end of the sofa before the end until they were almost touching. There would be years ahead, she hoped, in which she would hear all his stories, but he was exhausted, and her eyes were starting to feel heavy as well. The room blurred and came back into focus as she struggled to keep them open.

"Let's go to bed," he said; the words took a moment to register. Even when she made sense of them, the connotation was off: lost in the wishes she had to keep buried for now.

Once she understood what he had said, she nodded, hoping her eyes hadn't gotten as wide as they had felt when she'd thought he meant something else. "It's been a long day," she said.

"That's an understatement." He stretched, letting out a groan and then a yawn, which Riza couldn't help but copy, stifling it against her hand.

They snuffed the fire, and Roy relied on Riza to navigate them out of the room in the dark; they hadn't left any other lights on. Her hand found his effortlessly, their fingers twining as though no time had passed since the last time they'd done so.

The stair rail slipped silently beneath her free hand but Roy cursed under his breath behind her as he stumbled and banged his knee against one of the posts. In the hallway, she flicked on the light. "You can use the bathroom first," she offered.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said. "It's your house."

"You took your old towel back easily enough," she pointed out. She had washed it and switched to the ratty one after sending the letter, leaving the pink one out for Roy.

"That's tradition," he said.

"I'm glad you think so. I'd hate to leave a guest with the less-than-ideal option."

"You did leave me the blankets from your father's bed. I had to wash them myself."

"They're both nicer than what I've got. That's why he had had them in the first place. I'd hoped that would help…" She trailed off, her heart beating painfully for a moment as she realized that a part of her missed her father after all.

Roy closed the distance between them immediately, wrapping himself around her until she could barely breathe, which was comforting in a way. Every breath she managed to draw carried the scents of wool and sweat and fading cologne, but it all smelled like him and she had missed that very much.

"You did everything you could, Riza," he said, "but you can't keep someone alive who doesn't wish to be. Those last weeks, I think he was just holding out for me to return."

"Is that what he told you?" Riza said, struggling against his embrace until he let her step back to look up at him.

"Not exactly. He said he died a long time ago. When he finished his research." Roy shook his head sadly.

"I think it's more likely he died with my mother. Or at least, my father did," she amended quickly, thinking of the man who had built her treehouse what felt like several lifetimes ago. "Berthold Hawkeye the alchemist might have died when he put the tattoo on my back or he might have died the night you came back. Maybe he died three times. I hope neither of us dies more than once. And not for a long time."

"I hope so too."

This time, Riza hugged him, wrapping her arms around him as tight as she could. In her exhaustion, she thought how nice it would be if she never had to let go. But this wasn't the time to ask him to carry her to bed, to stay the night with her. Even if it were a reasonable request at this point in their newly reformed relationship, they still had to change and brush their teeth and Roy definitely needed a shower.


	41. The Attic

Roy's door was still shut when Riza went out into the hall the next morning. She decided to let him sleep. After everything he had done for her, he deserved a break. The bathroom floor felt like ice under her bare feet, but the water warmed quickly when she turned the shower on, and she hummed softly to herself as she held her hand under the stream. Hot showers were one of the few luxuries she had been able to enjoy during Roy's absence, especially in the winter. She rarely took longer than needed so as not to be wasteful, but today was an exception; she turned the water off only when she heard a door open down the hall.

She dried and dressed and opened the door to a Roy with mussed hair and eyes that still seemed sleepy. "Morning," she said, shivering as the cold air swept away the warmth from the steam.

"I miss coffee," was Roy's idea of a proper greeting. He stepped past Riza to stand in front of the sink. "I noticed you're still using my old toothbrush."

"It still has bristles, so there's no been no need to get a new one."

Roy shook his head and pointed at the fuzzy bristles that stuck out at odd angles. "I left it for you so you'd stop using one that was falling apart, not so you'd use this one until it fell apart too."

"I had to buy food and medicine. A toothbrush was the least of my concerns," she said, moving beside him to comb her hair in view of the mirror.

"Next time we're in town, I'll buy one for you. It's unhygienic."

"Don't forget the coffee."

"Coffee," he agreed. He washed his face and examined it in the mirror after. When he didn't see anything, he felt his chin for stray whiskers. Riza wondered if he realized she was watching and she turned away, embarrassed. She set her comb on the counter and slipped downstairs to make breakfast so Roy could finish in private.

Though they had made dinner together the night before, she hadn't had a chance to look into the pantry and her eyes widened as she did. It made sense from the meals they had eaten for it to be well-stocked but seeing it for herself almost took her breath away. All this food must have cost a small fortune, not to mention the meat she knew was in the icebox. She was still staring when Roy appeared at her elbow.

"Can't decide what to eat?" he teased.

She shook her head. "How could you afford all of this?"

"I have savings and money left by my parents. Besides, I'll be a State Alchemist soon enough."

"You didn't know about my tattoo when you bought this," she said. "Nor when you paid for my father's funeral."

Hands in his pockets, Roy looked a bit sheepish. "Well, he did ask me to take care of you, and even if he hadn't, I wasn't about to let you starve. You're skin and bones as it is."

They both knew that wasn't entirely true; the pink in Roy's cheeks gave it away. Still, she had lost weight since he had seen her last, and it worried her just as much as it did him. Hopefully everything would change now. Roy was back to make sure her stomach was full, and even after he left, she was no longer tied down to her father and this house.

Breakfast passed quickly with Roy growing quieter and quieter as he approached the end of his eggs and pancakes. Riza swallowed and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nervous," he said. He took a long drink of orange juice to avoid answering further.

"If anyone can decrypt it, I know you can."

"That's not—" Roy swallowed the rest of his sentence and she understood. He still wasn't entirely okay with the idea of spending long hours staring at her naked back, though whether that was because of his attraction to her or his horror at the idea of her father using her as a living alchemy text, she wasn't sure. It was likely a mix of both.

He reached across the table to stack her empty plate on top of his. He added the glasses next and carried the pile over to the sink effortlessly. Riza supposed he'd had plenty of practice in Christmas's bar lately.

When the dishes were washed, they went into the living room together to sit on the couch. Riza unbuttoned her blouse with steady fingers and slipped it off. Roy gave a sharp intake of breath. Quickly as she could, Riza put the blouse on backward, which seemed to make him a little more comfortable. She felt him inch closer to her and her shoulders tensed involuntarily.

"Sorry," he murmured, already sounding deep in concentration. "I've never seen an array like this before. I wonder…"

"I'm sorry I can't help you. Even if I did know the first thing about alchemy, I can't see it properly." She flexed her hands nervously. The intensity of Roy's eyes on her skin made her feel almost as though the ink were being transmuted into it all over again.

"I was going to ask if it was alright for me to borrow some of your father's books. I'd like to read some of the ones he never let me touch in case he got any of his ideas from them."

Riza nodded. "Of course. His books are yours now, if you like. I've no use for them."

"Thank you." He reached for her back and stopped as though remembering at the last minute that he was studying from Riza's body rather than another book. She could feel his finger less than a centimeter away from her skin.

"You can touch me if that helps," she said.

"I think it would." He ran one finger down her back in a twining pattern, apparently tracing one of the strange parts of the array he had mentioned.

She tried to relax under his touch but it was as clinical as a finger over a page, nothing at all like the caresses he had given her in the past. Even through her clothes, she had been able to feel the affection in those touches. "Roy," she said stiffly.

His finger stopped at the small of her back. "I'm sorry, am I pressing too hard?"

"It's not that," she said. How was she supposed to explain herself? He was studying, not making love to her, so it only made sense that that was reflected in his touch.

Roy's finger traced out other sections of the array as well, hesitating at some points as he muttered quietly to himself, too low for her to make out the words even if she wanted to. Occasionally, he would make a triumphant noise only for it to fade into a grumble as he apparently realized he hadn't deciphered anything after all.

Hours passed and Riza's stomach growled as lunchtime approached. Roy didn't seem to hear it over his own muttering and she let him continue; surely he would be hungry soon as well. By the time his attention did break, her back was stiff from sitting so long and her chest was sore from a lack of support.

"Did you figure anything out yet?" she asked, folding her arms beneath her aching breasts.

"Only that I don't know or even recognize the language these notes are encrypted in. The writing is very small, too. It must have taken ages for him to do this, and I can't help thinking how much it must have hurt you. I'm so sorry, Riza." He leaned forward until his forehead rested just below the base of her neck, then pulled away immediately as though he thought it would make her uncomfortable. It didn't, though; it felt better than any of his tracings.

"He used alchemy. It was over almost as soon as it began." She did not want to tell him just yet how much it had hurt, how she had cried afterward. She was afraid that, if she did, he would lose all desire to study again and then all that pain would have been for nothing.

Behind her, Roy shifted and she turned to see him get to his feet. He looked a little wobbly and she wondered if his legs had fallen asleep. "After lunch," he said, "I'm going to go up to the attic. You can help me if you like but I'll understand if you don't want to help me search through alchemy books."

"I can bring them downstairs for you," she said, relieved that he had steered their discussion away from her tattoo.

Roy nodded. "That's a good idea."

"One other thing," she said as he started to leave the room.

"What's that?"

"Sitting on the couch while you study for long stretches isn't exactly comfortable," she said.

"No," he agreed. "It's not the easiest position for me either. And I don't have to worry about a—a lack of support." A thin line of pink colored Riza's cheeks and Roy scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "I grew up around lots of women, remember? I know things."

Still somewhat embarrassed, Riza nodded. She turned her back to him to put her shirt on the right way.

"I'll start cooking so you can go upstairs and change so you're more comfortable," he said. He sounded even more embarrassed than she felt.

Her thoughts crept unbidden to their first kisses on the floor of her bedroom and she wondered if he was afraid that thinking about her bra or lack thereof would cause a similar situation. She supposed that, after their decision to start over as friends again, he was as hesitant as she was about approaching the topic of the romantic side of their relationship that they had not yet had enough time to explore.

Once they had eaten and she had done the dishes, Riza made her way up to the attic where she found Roy already surrounded by several stacks of books. "Would you like me to start with these?" she asked, gesturing to the crooked stacks nearest her.

Roy looked over his shoulder for a moment then shook his head. "Not yet. I know you were good in chemistry; would you mind looking through to see if there's anything that looks like it might be related to combustion?"

"Even if I were comfortable reading about alchemy, wouldn't it all be written in code?" she asked. A part of her wanted to tell him about the reaction she'd had to reading about combustion for school. She wondered if he would understand since it felt a bit like some of the nightmares she had about losing her mother. Did he ever have reactions like that when he thought about his parents? No, she realized, he had been too young to know them. He would think her insane. It was likely, after all; her father had been. What was to say it didn't run in the family?

Concern flashed across Roy's face for a moment only to be replaced by a sheepish expression. "Sorry. I should have remembered it was a sore spot for you, especially with the whole…" One of his hands made an awkward gesture she assumed was meant to represent her tattoo.

She took a few steps closer and sank wordlessly to the floor outside his wall of books. The wood was smooth and cold beneath her knees even though she wore her thickest pair of stockings.

"What are you planning to do with these books once I'm gone?" Roy asked suddenly.

She hadn't given it much thought; there hadn't been time for it. "I suppose you could have them if you'd like. In a way, you're more his heir than I am."

"I wouldn't have room for all of these in Central. Besides that, some of them might be worth a lot of money if you find the right buyer. I wouldn't dream of taking that from you." He placed the book he had been flipping through on one of the far stacks and retrieved a new one from the shelf.

"Keep what you want and I'll sell the rest," she suggested.

Roy shrugged. "I can't keep the only research I really want to take back to Central. I'd rather let you have the money."

A part of her wanted to say that, though it was true she wasn't a book or a paper, she would happily go to Central with him after he had finished. But it meant broaching the same uncomfortable topic they'd been dancing around ever since she had decided to trust him again so she decided against it. If he wasn't ready to resume a relationship, he certainly wouldn't be ready to ask her to move in with him, regardless of if she was content to simply be his roommate.

The entire bookshelf piled up around them as Riza shifted the books Roy placed between them around her in an expanded circle. He smiled when he noticed what she was doing and shifted closer to her.

"We should probably put these back before we move on to the next shelf," he said.

She nodded and they started sliding books back onto progressively higher shelves, shying away slightly whenever their hands or arms touched. Putting the books back was a lot faster than removing them had been and they stood facing each other for a moment once they had finished, Roy with a hand on the back of his neck.

"Riza, I know we moved off the subject hours ago, but the thing about alchemy is that it's an exchange," he began.

"I don't recall talking about anything like that, actually," she said.

He shook his head. "Let me start over then. Your tattoo. I'm not an idiot, Riza. I know it had to have hurt just as much to have the ink forced into your skin with alchemy as it would have with needles. Maybe even worse if he did it all at once." Riza tensed and Roy's eyes widened in horror. His lips parted slightly but no words came out, only a soft sound of disbelief, and then he was holding her in a bone-crushing hug.

No words were necessary. She put her arms around him as well. Slowly, slowly, they were building back what they had lost for the past year and a half. Slowly, slowly, she felt the wounds in her heart beginning to scab over just a bit. It wasn't up to Roy to heal them—she knew that perfectly well—but having him back and doing what he could to comfort her, especially now that she was able to share her terrible secret with him, lifted burdens she had expected to carry by herself all the way to her cold and lonely grave. She was grateful for Claire and Ms. Carlisle, but the enormous relief that came from not only having Roy back but being able to tell him everything made her feel something almost like peace.

Roy released her several moments later, but his eyes lingered on hers. "It's going to be alright now," he said. "I'll never let anyone hurt you like that again. Even if we're apart, send for me and I'll take care of anyone that tries."

Riza looked down, thinking of the card he had given her. It was in the drawer of her nightstand, but she didn't want to think about the fact that a day would come when she might need it. For now, Roy was here, and the important thing was making sure he could use her father's research. Which meant that they needed to move to the next bookcase. She pulled a volume from the top shelf and handed it to him.

By dinnertime, they hadn't made their way through even one wall of bookcases and had found only an armful of volumes that Roy deemed potentially useful. He carried them downstairs even though she had come up here to carry what they had assumed would be stacks and stacks of books down for him.

He hesitated at the top of the stairs down to the first floor. "Is something wrong?" Riza asked.

"No, I just had an idea. Why don't we leave these up here?" he suggested, gesturing with his elbow in the direction of their bedrooms. "I could do a bit of reading before bed and you would be more comfortable if I study from your back while you're lying down."

"It certainly couldn't hurt," she said. She didn't much care for the idea of lying on her stomach, but at least her back wouldn't be as stiff after, and with properly placed pillows, she thought it might even be enjoyable. Certainly it would be an easier angle for Roy to study from, examining her like a book laid open rather than having to contort his body to examine her lower back.

She followed him into his room and watched as he placed the stack of books on the desk that had once been hers. "I know you're planning on reading them tonight, but would it be alright if you studied in my room? I'd feel more comfortable in my own bed."

"Of course." He didn't mention that it had once been his, though she was certain the thought crossed his mind.

Roy ate ravenously but Riza only picked at her food; she still wasn't used to three meals a day, and certainly not ones with such generous portions. She offered some of it to Roy but he shook his head.

"You can finish it. You're already half done." When Riza frowned at him, he shook his head. "Damn, I sound like Christmas. 'Finish your vegetables, Roy-boy.' But this is about getting you healthy and not forcing an innocent child to eat broccoli. Of course, if it was awful, I wouldn't expect you to eat any of it, but I think this turned out just fine."

Riza smiled and took another bite of quiche. She wondered if it was the same kind he had had at the academy or if he had found the recipe in one of her cookbooks and decided to see if it was similar. He was probably glad that no one was trying to steal it from him for once. "It's delicious," she said. "My stomach just isn't very big."

"None of you is very big. That's what I'm trying to fix," he said. "As much as I hate your father for what he did to you, I'm serious about the promise I made. I owe you that much, at least."

Shaking her head, Riza cleared the rest of her plate. Her stomach felt as though it might burst but she had to admit, it was a better feeling than going hungry. It was more of a round discomfort than the sharp pain that came without eating for an entire day or more. If Roy was right about the books, though, she wouldn't have to worry about going hungry for a very long time, especially once she sold the house and found work elsewhere.

They did the dishes together and for a moment as their fingers touched when she handed Roy a plate to dry, it felt just like the first winter they had spent together. The thought made her feel bold and she could see determination in the face that looked back at her from the dark window. She was half-tempted to take his hand when they left the kitchen after putting everything away. They climbed the stairs side by side, close enough for their arms to brush when they swung past each other.

In the hall between their rooms, they looked at each other for a moment; Roy's expression was unreadable but she knew she had to say something before he shut himself in his room for the night.

"Thanks for dinner," she said, standing up on her toes. Just as the last of her courage began to dissipate, she pressed her lips to his cheek. "Goodnight."

She hurried off to her room and closed the door without waiting to see his reaction.


	42. Maybe

To Riza's relief, Roy didn't mention the kiss. The next morning at breakfast, he spoke cheerfully and teased her when she said she wasn't sure if she had room for more food after last night's dinner. He talked about things his sisters had said, about how, once he had his state license, she absolutely _had_ to come to Central to meet everybody. The rest of the day was spent in the attic, combing through books. Roy spent longer looking through each of them now, explaining that he was afraid he would miss something if he just flipped through the pages the way he had on the first day. In order to preserve the original arrangement, Riza decided to remove everything from one shelf at once and leave it for Roy's perusal. When he was finished with one book, she returned it to the growing line on the shelf.

Between Roy's more thorough examination of his old master's texts and his insistence on spending at least an hour enjoying the fresh, unseasonably warm air, it took over two weeks for them to finish combing the attic, including a better search through the shelves they had covered on the first day. Riza was glad to be spared exposing her body to him so soon after exposing her heart, even though, from Roy's behavior, it seemed the kiss had happened only in her imagination.

That night, however, she found herself standing in front of him outside her bedroom once more, and that same temptation came over her again. She resisted it and said, "In the morning, are you going to go back to studying the tattoo?"

"I thought we should go through the books in your father's room first. There are a few more shelves in there." He hesitated a moment before adding, "But not tomorrow."

Riza cocked her head, confused for a moment until she remembered. "That's right. Tomorrow's your birthday. I'd forgotten what day it was."

"Don't worry about it. You've had a lot on your mind." He put his hands on her shoulders then pulled her close for a quick hug. Before he let her go, he placed a gentle kiss on top of her head. "Goodnight."

"Roy, wait," she said, catching him by the arm as he turned toward his room.

He stopped. "What is it?"

"You kissed me," she said.

"And you kissed me the night after your father's funeral, when we decided to take things slow." He sounded so casual Riza wasn't entirely sure how to respond.

Looking down at her toes, Riza said, "I thought we weren't going to talk about that."

Roy shrugged. "I didn't think there was anything to say."

"I suppose not." Maybe he had thought it was inevitable. If she was correct in her assumptions regarding the glances she had caught him stealing over the past weeks, he had simply been waiting for her to make the next move, giving her space to grieve or to learn to trust him again or even learning to trust himself with her.

"'Night, Riza," he said.

"Goodnight."

Even though she was tired, Riza didn't fall asleep for a long time. She lay on her side, curled under the covers and wishing she had Roy and his blankets here to help keep her warm. He was just across the hall; all she needed to do was knock and he would almost certainly let her in. It wasn't like they hadn't done this before. She fell asleep before she worked up the courage required even to get out of bed.

The next morning, she was halfway through making breakfast when Roy stumbled into the kitchen, still in his pajamas. Scratching his chest, he yawned a good morning and sat down at the table.

"Happy birthday," Riza said. She brought his plate and a bottle of syrup over and set them in front of him. "I'm sorry there's still no coffee."

"'S alright," he said, digging into his thick stack of pancakes. "You left the candles off though."

"Pardon?"

Roy pointed to his plate. "Candles for my birthday cake."

"Oh. That's still in the oven," she explained, feeling somewhat embarrassed. "I overslept."

"You're doing just fine. These are perfect." He took another bite of pancakes.

"I'm not sure how you can tell that with as much syrup as you use," she said.

"I would've used more if they weren't."

Riza shook her head. He was out of his mind: it was as simple as that. This side of him hadn't come out much the first time they had lived together; with Riza's insistence on paying for everything, he had been conservative about his food. Now that it was his own money, he seemed to thrive off of excess. It made her stomach turn just thinking about it.

Sitting down across from him, she squeezed a conservative pool of syrup onto the side of her plate, enough to dip maybe half of her pancake into and more than enough for her taste. Sweetness was a luxury that her tongue was not quite used to. Even on those rare occasions when she had had the money to spend on a treat, dark chocolate had been her choice more often than not. She loved the smooth bitterness, the way it melted on her tongue. Syrup left her with a bellyache if she had too much of it. Watching Roy eat lick the excess off his fork was almost enough to cause the same effect.

Roy noticed. "You don't look so good," he said. "Is something wrong?"

She took a few small sips of tea to steady her stomach. The timer she had set for the cake went off, providing a convenient excuse for her to leave the table and the sight of Roy's nauseating culinary preferences behind. She opened the oven door and lifted the pan out; the heat made her cold fingers sting even through the pads she used to protect them. Sucking air in through her teeth, she quickly dropped the pan on top of the stove and turned the oven off.

"Need any help?" Roy appeared at her side with his empty plate.

For a moment, she thought about telling him to take it easy since it was his birthday, but the thought of having to wash all that syrup off for him brought her nausea back. "You could start by washing those while I finish eating. And don't touch that cake," she added over her shoulder. "I haven't even had a chance to frost it."

"I know, I know," he said, but she could tell from his voice he had planned on doing exactly that.

When she had finished eating, Riza assembled the ingredients for the frosting while Roy washed her plate. He kept stealing glances in her direction; she looked down at her turtleneck sweater for a long moment before she realized the longing in his eyes was directed at the contents of the bowl in front of her. "You can lick the spoon when I'm done," she said.

"You're a good person, you know that?"

"I wouldn't speak so soon," she said as she began to frost the cake. "I never had a chance to get a present for you."

Roy reached for the spoon and she swatted his hand away. "I don't want you spending money on me. A cake is enough." He took the hand she had used to swat at him and pressed it. "Seeing you again is nice too. Talking like this, like nothing's changed."

Frosting one-handed was difficult so she pulled away, not daring to look at Roy for fear that it might have hurt his feelings. "Everything's changed," she said sadly.

"That's why it's nice." He reached for the spoon again and this time she let him. There was enough on the cake already; it was just a matter of spreading it. When she had finished, Roy was holding the bowl as well, digging into the leftover frosting with relish. He scooped another spoonful and offered it to her.

"I can get my own spoon," she said, reaching for the drawer.

"You've been using my toothbrush for a year and a half, and I have a very clear memory of a particularly stormy day where you nearly put your tongue down my throat. Not that I minded, of course." He tapped the back of the spoon against his closed lips before holding it out to Riza once more. This time she took it and placed it in her mouth. The frosting melted in her mouth and she sucked on the spoon to remove every trace of it. When it had been licked clean, she passed it back to Roy. She tried not to think about kissing him again, but that was hard with her attention focused on his mouth and the fresh reminder of that rainy afternoon in her bedroom.

They passed the spoon back and forth until Riza began to feel sick to her stomach from so much sugar. She had already had syrup and still wanted to be able to enjoy a slice of cake. Roy seemed disappointed that she didn't want to help him finish but he scraped the bowl clean just as easily as he would have with her help.

She reached up into the cupboard to find the same candles she had used on his last cake then placed them one by one into the top of the cake.

"Funny, I thought I turned six two years ago," he teased.

"You're a riot. I'm glad you're actually turning twenty though." She reached into the cupboard again for matches.

"Why is that?"

She struck a match and held it to the first candle. "I have a present for you after all."

Roy's face lit up. "When do I get it?"

"Not until tonight." She finished lighting the candles and shook the match until it went out. "Just think, a couple more weeks and you could have done that for me."

"Technically, I still could have—I do know how to use matches, you know. But I'm more interested in this present you mentioned," he said.

Riza shook her head. "My lips are sealed. And pouting like that isn't going to make me spoil the surprise. Now blow out the candles before the wax melts onto the cake."

"Aren't you going to sing to me?" he asked.

"There's no time for that now." She watched as he closed his eyes, apparently making his wish, and blew out the candles. It wasn't much of a challenge even though they were of differing heights. She wondered what he had wished for. Selfish thought it might be, a part of her hoped that he had wished for something to finally happen between them: that was a wish she could grant easily enough.

She plucked the dripping candles from the cake and set them beside the sink to cool, then served them each a slice of cake. When she took a bite of hers, she thought she could taste a bit of wax where one of the candles had been, but Roy ate his as though it were the best thing he had ever tasted.

"We aren't going to need lunch today," he said between bites.

"A late lunch would be nice. Or an early dinner," she said.

"I think you're going to like what I have planned for dinner," he said, and he refused to say another word on the subject. Riza didn't want to give him the satisfaction that would come from asking more than once, especially when he spent their afternoon walk attempting to wheedle hints from her about the present. The only answer she gave was the crack of dry grass beneath her feet.

The sun hung low over the mountains by the time they returned home arm in arm with faces red from the wind. As soon as they were through the door, Roy spun to face her. "Time to get ready," he said.

"Are you taking me out for dinner?" she asked.

He hung his coat beside the door. "Of course I am. It would be wrong of me to ask you to pay."

Upstairs, Riza shifted dresses around in her closet. The one she had worn the last time Roy had taken her to dinner would show off her tattoo, which was a shame. It was the nicest she owned. She also passed over the one she had worn to the funeral without hesitation. At last, she settled on a wine red button dress with a high collar. It wasn't particularly formal, and she would have to wear a jacket to make up for the lack of sleeves, but it would do. At least it covered her back.

Roy was waiting for her when she opened the door, his hair slicked back. Her heart beat faster when she saw him and faster still when he held out an arm and said, "You're beautiful, Riza."

She took his arm. "Thank you. You look nice yourself."

Now looking a little flustered, Roy muttered his thanks and led the way outside into the setting sun. The air was cold even through her coat and she clung to Roy's arm in a way that was embarrassing but at least kept her warmer. Roy looked over at her, somewhat concerned. He seemed to realize quickly what she was trying to do and extracted his arm to wrap it around her, tucking the flap of his coat around her back in the process. She cuddled closer to his side, suddenly much warmer. Still inside his coat, she wrapped her own arm around him; she could feel evidence of the academy training through his shirt and a few butterflies began fluttering in her stomach. She tried to ignore her growing desire to see him without his shirt. Equivalent exchange, she could tell him. In order to study from her back, he had to let her see his at least. And his chest, too, if he would be so kind.

Her fantasies carried her the rest of the way to town, though she forced herself not to move her fingers to examine the exact structure of his muscles. It took more self-control than she would have expected. When she extracted herself from his coat inside the restaurant, he looked over at her face. "The cold must have been getting to you worse than I thought," he said. "Your cheeks are red."

She almost corrected him but thought better of it. It would be hard enough to admit she had spent the past twenty minutes thinking about how hard his body felt under his shirt when they were alone. In the polite company of the restaurant where they had once spent their first date, it would be impossible. She would die of embarrassment on the spot. "It is chilly out," she agreed.

Roy slipped out of his coat and placed it around Riza's shoulders, letting his hands linger there until they were taken to a table. The waiter handed each of them a menu and waited for them to order their drinks. Riza asked for wine, Roy for a fifth of bourbon on the rocks.

"That's why you wanted to come here," Riza said once the waiter had left. "I'm sure it's better than what's left of my father's wine."

"If you want, I'll let you try a sip," he offered without looking up from the menu in front of him.

"Are you sure? There won't be much there to begin with."

"I can afford to buy another," He looked up at her and she saw that old glint in his eye she knew all too well and had missed more than she should have.

She shook her head. "If you insist."

The waiter returned with their drinks and they ordered: lamb for Roy and chicken for Riza. When the waiter left, she reached out hesitantly for the bourbon but Roy nudged her hand away. "Not on an empty stomach." He took a sip.

"Hypocrite," she said under her breath.

"I've had it before. You might want something to get rid of the taste anyway," he said. He took another sip of the golden liquid, ice rattling around the glass below his lips.

Riza thought about kissing him again as she watched, imaging how nice it would feel to have those lips pressed against her own. Those lips and those muscles as their bodies pressed together as well. It was difficult to keep her attention focused on the fully-clothed Roy in front of her. He seemed amused by something and raised his glass without drinking to cover his twitching lips.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

He lowered the glass. "You were staring at me and I couldn't help thinking about the last time we were here."

"And that's funny."

"Just a bit," he said.

"I think you just can't hold your liquor very well," she replied coolly.

"Yes, I can, but the last time we were here, it was because I asked you out."

"Are you saying this is a date?" she asked.

Roy closed his eyes for a moment, considering the question. "Only if you want it to be."

"I'd like that very much," she said, taking a long drink of wine. Roy looked stunned for a second before covering it up behind a satisfied smirk. He had probably been planning on counting it as one even if she hadn't said anything.

Their food arrived and Riza cut into her chicken eagerly. She was hungrier than she had thought. The waiter left and Roy slid his bourbon toward her.

"Trying to get a lady drunk on a date. What a gentleman," she teased. She raised the glass; the smell alone singed her nose. The sip she took felt like it went up her nose as well even though she felt it burn down her throat. She placed the glass down and gulped down both wine and chicken until the sensation went away.

Roy drained the rest of the bourbon in two swallows. "A sip isn't going to get anyone drunk. You didn't seem to like it much anyway."

"It was different than wine," she said.

"It is a lot stronger. You don't have to like it," he added when she looked down. He nudged her foot under the table, running his own along her arch and up to her ankle. Her heart sped up as he continued caressing her foot without showing any sign above the table of what was going on underneath. He cut and chewed his dinner with an air of innocence that he maintained throughout the meal even when the toe of his shoe traced its way up her calf.

They finished, paid, and left, following the moonlit road toward home with arms around each other again. This time, Roy put his around Riza's waist instead of her shoulders, something she didn't mind in the least. This was exactly what she had been waiting for ever since she had decided to trust him again.

Upstairs, they stood in the hall between their rooms just as they had every night. "Should I wait out here while you get my present?" Roy asked her.

She shook her head. "It's right here." Reaching up, she grabbed his collar and pulled him down the way she had two summers ago. His lips were chapped from the wind, but they moved eagerly against hers, a noise of surprise catching in his throat. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her tight against his chest while his other hand cupped her face. Breathless, they broke apart to rest their foreheads together, panting and smiling.

"That was some present," Roy said. His thumb brushed her cheek gently and gave her a gentle, closed-mouth kiss, rubbing his nose against hers when he pulled away.

She released his collar, lowering her hands to place them flat against his chest. "I thought you might like it."

"I know what I said before but does this mean—going forward—that you want to, uh, be my girlfriend again?" he asked, looking even more flustered than he sounded.

Riza nodded and he kissed her again, this time holding her in both arms so tightly that she could barely breathe. Or maybe that was the kiss. He traced her lower lip with his tongue before he took it between his teeth, tugging at it until she let out a soft moan. He looked down at her through half-open eyes and her heart skipped a beat.

"Tomorrow," Roy gasped. "We can pick things up tomorrow, but I think I need to take a shower now, and then I need to do some reading." He gave her one last, quick squeeze before releasing her, and disappeared into his room with an enormous grin. Riza stayed behind for a moment, watching his door with a faint smile of her own. A small part of her worried about how much it would hurt when he left again, but for tonight, she decided to ignore it. With mountains of books to get through and her father's code to decipher, he would be here a while yet. For now, they had all the time in the world.


	43. Second Attempt

The morning was dark with heavy clouds that threatened snow at last. Riza shivered under her blanket, imagining Roy in the other room and how much warmer they both would be if she had asked to join him the night before. After the kisses they had shared, she assumed he would have been perfectly happy to oblige. Uncurling herself from the small, almost-warm patch of the bed, she shifted the covers aside and dashed to the closet to pick out clothes, then she raced to the bathroom to find Roy was already up and washing his face. He kissed her good morning: first on the forehead, then on the lips.

"I like your hair," he said, ruffling it into an even worse state of disarray.

Riza took a step back toward the shower to turn it on, hoping he would take the hint. When he didn't leave, she reached up and placed her hands on his face.

He jumped away with a yelp. "Shit! Your fingers are like ice!"

"My bedroom's like ice," she complained as he took one of her hands in both of his and rubbed it.

"You should have knocked on my door. I was up late reading and I would have let you stay." He kissed her fingertips and moved to the other hand.

Riza shrugged. "I thought you didn't want to take things too quickly."

"Too quickly? You've been sneaking into my bed since before either of us ever expected we'd be kissing one day," Roy said, squeezing her hand. "It's not about romance; it's about you not freezing to death. We'll take things as slow as we like when we're awake, but I don't want you to feel like you have to spend another night shivering because you're scared of making me uncomfortable with the thought of what might happen if we go to bed together." He pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on top of her head as steam from the shower swirled around them.

"As much as I hate to ask it, could you leave?" she asked.

"Oh, right, you need to shower. Sorry, I'll go."

After, when she was bundled up in a cozy sweater, she found him in the kitchen with breakfast already on the table. "I think the books in your father's room can wait; there's enough in the ones we already found to make my head spin. And I'm ready to start with your back after we eat, if that's alright with you," he said.

"It's what you're here for," she said. From the teapot on the table, she remembered that they had forgotten to buy coffee.

"It's not the only thing." He reached for her hand across the table but she pulled away.

"You came because my father was ill and you thought he would share his research. You stayed because of a sense of duty since he asked you to take care of me.

"A request I agreed to because I still care about you."

"That doesn't matter. Everything else between us happened after, and it's not as important as your studies," she said.

"Yes, it is." Roy sat forward in his chair, looking at her earnestly with elbows resting on the table as he reached toward her again. "Riza, if the only thing that mattered to me was learning flame alchemy, you wouldn't have shared it with me, and we both know it. I don't mind if it takes months if that means spending more time with you."

Riza sat back farther from him, arms folded in front of her chest. "You know that's not what I meant, Roy. It's bigger than the two of us. This alchemy, it's meant to help the people of this entire country. There's not so much time to waste fooling around with me."

"How can I help an entire country if I can't even help my best friend? Besides, you know I can't study the whole time."

A part of her wondered if he would be even more easily distracted studying from her naked back. Certainly those kinds of distractions appealed to her, but she couldn't help but feel like the situation was more serious than that. Roy had skipped out on a semester at the Academy for this, and he needed to take the state exam before too long. She was missing school as well, and though she was certain she knew enough to take a university entrance exam, she couldn't help but feel like she should at least finish out some of her final year of schooling.

"I'm not saying I don't want you to take breaks or to spend time with me that doesn't involve studying," she said. "I just want you to focus on what's most important."

"Yes, Master Hawkeye," Roy said, snapping a salute.

Riza glared in response and they finished eating in silence.

In her room twenty minutes later, she left a stack of books Roy deemed promising on the desk while he piled his pillow and blankets on her bed. She removed her sweater while he turned his back and she positioned herself with her pillow under her stomach, Roy's beneath her chin, and an extra blanket wrapped around her upper body as best as she could manage while leaving her back exposed. Her legs were under the sheets and the other two blankets. Roy dragged the chair from the desk over beside her bed and she closed her eyes.

His fingers brushed tentative lines as he examined the section of the tattoo over her right shoulder blade; the pressure felt as though he were trying to tickle her with a feather and she was grateful her back was as far from ticklish as possible. She remained perfectly still.

The longer they sat there in silence, the more certain his hands became, and she began to feel affection behind the touch that felt more like a lover's caress than a student's hand across a page. When she asked what his intentions were, she could hear the shrug in his voice: "I thought you might be bored."

"Could you get me something to read then?" she asked. "It is incredibly boring being an alchemy text, however nice it feels when you touch me."

Roy was more than happy to oblige. He returned with a well-worn paperback adventure novel, and this time, he used both hands as he examined the tattoo. The one that focused on the text passed over her skin as though he were trying to read a difficult line in a book, pausing occasionally, perhaps to cover words or letters to see if that changed the meaning. His other hand moved freely: roaming from her left shoulder blade to places she knew perfectly well the tattoo didn't cover: massaging her shoulder, stroking her upper arm. When she could no longer focus on her book for want of his hands over other parts of her body, she spoke up.

"Are you getting distracted?" she asked.

"Uh… no?" he offered weakly. When she turned to stare at him over her shoulder, he amended, "Maybe a little. It's almost dinnertime and I'm getting hungry."

"If you're ready to call it quits, that's fine by me. I'm starting to feel stiff," she said, tucking a scrap of paper into her book. Something dropped onto her back.

"Here are your clothes. I have to use the bathroom." Roy scooted the chair back and she listened to him leave the room, pulling the door shut behind him to give her privacy while she dressed.

She sat up on her knees, fastened the bra, pulled the sweater over her head, and got up to make the bed, leaving Roy's blankets folded neatly on top with his pillow beside them. Roy was just coming out of the bathroom when she walked past, and he reached for her hand.

"Did you make any progress?" she asked.

"I recognized a few words from one of the books, but it's in a language I haven't studied so the rest of it is indecipherable unless I can find something to help me translate it."

Riza squeezed his hand. "I can help you look for it after we eat," she said.

"It might take a while. We'll have to comb the attic again, but at least this time I know what we're looking for. I'd forgotten what the words on your back said so I didn't realize it was an actual language," he said. Frowning, he scratched his cheek with his free hand. "I think it was the language of Xerxes. That's where alchemy came from, after all: a man brought it through the desert from the east not long after Xerxes was destroyed."

"I never knew that," Riza said. She had learned little of Xerxes in school, only that it was an empire that had fallen long ago.

"I'm not surprised. I know you said you didn't care to learn about alchemy, and now that I know about this, I can see why." He released her hand to press his own against the small of her back. "I'm sure you've got other scars buried deep, and not just the stuff you said about him ignoring you." His hand slipped the rest of the way around her waist to draw her close.

Over dinner, Roy's foot kept nudging her own the way it had the night before, though it felt much better without a shoe covering it, especially as he followed the same path up the inside of her calf, his toe following the curve of her muscle almost to the knee before he lost his courage when he felt the bottom of her skirt and made his way back down. She wished he would continue, wondered what would happen if he reached her thighs, but was too shy to tell him. He had wanted to take things slow after all.

Wandering feet turned to wandering hands as they combed the attic together, touching whenever their search brought them side by side, though always within the boundaries of propriety. Roy would squeeze her shoulders or ruffle her hair, and she would rub his back in reply as they carried on an entire conversation with neither word nor glance until, finally, Riza found the right shelf.

"That's it!" Roy cried when she held a book out for inspection. He thumbed through a few pages to verify that the other language was the one he had seen on her back. Still holding the book, he gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the top of her head. "Thank you, Riza."

He left the stack they had gathered on her desk so it would be close by after breakfast, and he left the pillow and blankets on her bed. "There's no point in moving everything between rooms if we were already planning on sleeping together," he explained, setting the pillow beside hers and spreading both blankets across the bed as she went to the closet for a nightgown.

She changed while he went to take a shower, and then she climbed into bed, pleased by the comforting weight of the extra blankets as she snuggled in to read her book by lamplight. When Roy returned, his hair was damp and his body was, to her surprise and delight, bare above his pajama pants.

"I hope you don't mind," he said. "I thought it might be too warm otherwise now that we're together."

"I don't mind at all," she said, taking in the sight. He hadn't exactly been scrawny before, but now, his muscles were toned and defined and she couldn't keep herself from staring at his abs until he started to shift his weight in the way he always did when something made him uncomfortable. She looked up at his face to see pink coloring his cheeks. "Sorry for staring. I don't hate the academy so much anymore."

Roy laughed. "I thought you might like it. I just wasn't expecting your eyes to pop like that."

"I felt them last night—your muscles, I mean. I've been imagining what they might look like, but I never thought I'd get to see them so soon." She struggled to keep her eyes on his. If this was anything like he experienced when she was topless, she couldn't blame him one bit for getting distracted from studying. "I just remembered I haven't brushed my teeth yet. I'll be back soon, so leave the lamp on, okay?"

It took considerably longer than the recommended two minutes for Riza to return, and Roy was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling when she did. Even though he didn't ask what had taken her so long, she felt a line of red across her cheeks as she climbed under the covers and switched off the lamp so Roy wouldn't see it.

As soon as she was settled under the covers, Roy pulled her into his arms. It took a moment for his lips to find hers in the dark, but as soon as they did, he kissed them so deeply that the pressure she had released began to return with each movement of his mouth, each gentle flick of his tongue against hers. A moan formed low in her mouth, and she held it in as long as she could; the sound seemed to excite Roy, and he kissed her even more enthusiastically, nipping at her bottom lip with his teeth, outlining her mouth with his tongue, increasing the tempo when his mouth closed over hers once more until their breath turned ragged and they were forced to stop.

"'Night, Riza," he said when he could speak again.

She snuggled closer to his chest, relishing the warmth that was so different from her shivery morning. "'Night, Roy." She closed her eyes, surprised at how awake she felt with her pounding heart. She felt it slow in time with Roy's as she listened to his steady breathing in the dark.


	44. Study Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since AO3 doesn't allow for a chapter-based rating system and I knew from the start that putting an M-rating for a few scenes toward the very end of this fic might have inadvertently raised some red flags if someone had started reading about 15-year-old Riza and 17-year-old Roy and not realized that the rating was only for chapters that came much, much later. So, here's a T-rated version. For the full version, there's a link in my bio to my tumblr writing page. For now, it'll be the first chapter in the writing tag, but there will also be a link to each of the M-rated chapters on the page itself.

Riza felt a spider crawl across her arm and moved to brush it away, surprised when she realized her hand was sandwiched between her stomach and something. She tried to shake the spider away instead, but when she moved she realized it wasn't a spider at all. Someone was playing with the sleeve of her nightgown and her other hand was stuck to those muscles she had been admiring the night before. She opened her eyes to see Roy looking at her with a sleepy smile. His hand moved from her arm to the back of her neck as he leaned in to give her a lingering good morning kiss.

"'S nice," he said, burrowing his face against her neck.

"What's nice?" she asked.

"This. You. _Us._ " Pulling her closer, he pressed kisses against her neck until she couldn't bear it any longer.

Stifling a moan of pleasure, she said, "Stop it, Roy."

He withdrew to look at her, brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought you were enjoying it. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No," she said, shifting in his arms. "It's just, when you kiss me like that, it makes things hard."

"You're telling me," he grumbled. "Alright, I'll keep the kisses to your face until you tell me otherwise."

She wanted to tell him otherwise right away, wanted to feel his mouth on her neck again, and on the rest of her body as well. But all she said was: "Good." She gave him a chaste kiss and wriggled out of his arms into the cold.

The day passed by with a sense of monotony as she lay on her stomach, reading the book and ignoring the growing discomfort in her breasts that the pillows did little to alleviate. Outside, snow blew against the windows, distracting her from the words on the page even more than Roy's hands on her back.

"I was thinking we should go to town this afternoon," she said when she could feel him becoming distracted as well, though his focus was on massaging away the knots in her back rather than staring out the window.

"Oh?" he said. His ministrations ceased and she almost regretted speaking; her back was as sore as her chest.

"In case the snow gets worse," she explained. "You still want coffee, don't you?"

"Coffee's good," he said. He was rubbing her back again, this time stroking down her spine with the flat of his hand until shivers ran up it. "Might even make it worth getting out of bed in the morning."

"I'd have thought learning alchemy made it worth it."

Roy laughed. "You think alchemy sounds better than staying in bed with you all day? Not a chance. Besides, all I've managed to get out of it so far is a bunch of nonsense, some chemistry, and a bit of physics. Nothing useful in helping me understand alchemy in particular, that's for damn sure," he said. His hand came to rest at the small of her back, making it even harder for her to keep the shivers in check.

"You'll find something eventually," she said. "Everything should be there."

"It's very hard translating with the books we found, especially when the source material is printed on an incredibly beautiful woman." His hand came back up to tangle in her hair; Riza turned just in time for Roy to lean in for a kiss. It took all her strength not to roll over, but to do so would be the opposite of taking things slow.

When he pulled away, she opened her eyes again. "I need to get dressed," she said.

"Oh, right. I'll meet you downstairs then." He stood, stretched, and left the room.

Riza took a moment to stretch as well before she dressed and followed Roy downstairs. She found him by the door, holding her coat for her; he helped her into it and they went out into the snow. It wasn't nearly as thick on the ground as she had expected from seeing the flakes hit the window, and Roy was tall enough to shield her from the worst of it as the wind blew into him.

The store, at least, was warm enough to sting Riza's hands even though she had kept them in her pockets. She followed Roy until they found the coffee. There wasn't a huge selection all the way out here, and he said something about how they didn't even have any of the good kinds here and now he had to sort through the bags until he found something halfway decent. She tugged at his sleeve.

"I need to buy a few things for myself at the drugstore," she said. "I'll meet you outside."

"Wait for me. I can pay for them," he said.

" _Personal_ things. I'd rather keep them that way if that's alright." She turned to leave and Roy caught her arm.

"Riza, I grew up surrounded by women," Roy said, sounding somewhat exasperated. "I don't have any problem with buying tampons for you. Hell, I lived with you for a year and I could always tell when you needed them."

Grateful that her face was already red from the cold, she shook her head stiffly. "Just get your coffee and leave the rest to me."

She left the store and headed down the block as quickly as she could. The last thing she wanted was for Roy to catch up with her before she was finished. The store was empty; everyone was at school or work or home, staying out of the cold. She found the tampons quickly and tucked the box under her arm before slinking furtively around looking for her next purchases. Taking them to the register would be difficult.

When she found what she was looking for, she was as flummoxed by the choices as Roy had been by the coffee. Perhaps she should have brought him along after all, since she had to guess size by what she had felt through his pants this morning. She hadn't even realized condoms came in different sizes and she picked a box that contained normal-sized ones. Finding a proper lubricant was much easier, though she checked over her shoulder when she picked it out in case Roy had come into the store looking for her. She hadn't heard the bell tinkle since she had entered, but she couldn't be too cautious. Maybe it was stupid of her to be so secretive about this, but if not for today's snowstorm, she would have waited to buy them until they had talked about it. This way, though, they would be prepared if things between them picked up before the winter ended, just in case it left them stranded. It was better to be prepared.

She was also starting to feel boxed in by their unspoken agreement that they keep their relationship where it had been the day before he had left the first time. Stopping him this morning had been difficult to do, and now, if he was willing, and she didn't lose her nerve, they would be ready for anything.

The man at the register had a knowing look on his face until he recognized her; then it turned to disgust. She tried to ignore him as she passed the cenz over the counter and left with her purchases concealed in a bag, nearly running into Roy as he came through the doors.

"You were in there a long time," he said, linking his arm through hers as they made their way to the main road.

"I ran into the same problem you did."

Roy gave her a strange look, as though trying to figure out how she could have trouble picking out tampons at her usual store, but he shrugged and didn't question her any further.

Back at the house, while Roy was tampering with a coffee maker and drawing transmutation circles on the floor with chalk, Riza went up to her bedroom to place the condoms and lubricant in the nightstand and the tampons in the bathroom cupboard beside the nearly-empty box she had desperately needed to replace. Now, she had only to wait and see what happened.

The next week passed slowly in a haze of discomfort and boredom that even her book and Roy's gentle caresses couldn't cure. It was too cold for them to go for walks these days, and spending evenings inside only added to her frustration. On the eighth day of the storm, with the coffee in her stomach making her restless, she rolled over as soon as she felt Roy's concentration slipping. She was sore and she needed a break, and judging by the kiss he had given her after breakfast, she had a feeling it was time for them to move their relationship forward.

Roy turned awkwardly, craning his neck back toward the desk. "Riza, what are you doing?"

"Lying on my stomach for days on end isn't exactly comfortable," she explained as she massaged feeling back into her breasts. "You don't have to look away. I'm used to being half-naked around you by now, and our kisses grow less innocent every night."

Slowly, Roy turned back around to look at her.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked.

"If you aren't ready, I'll pull the covers up," she said.

"It's just—I know it didn't take long for me to change my mind about going back to what we were, but I'm not entirely sure becoming more intimate is a good idea. I saw the way everyone looked at me at the funeral, like they all thought I was taking advantage of you the way they did before."

Riza scowled at him. "Showing you the secrets on my back is the deepest intimacy I can imagine, and besides that, it's not like we're children. This is a natural progression in our relationship."

"I suppose you're right," he admitted. "And I do want to do this."

"I'm glad we have that settled, then," she said, relief settling her twisting stomach. "We'll take it as slow as you like."

He stretched out a hand. "May I?"

All too soon, his hands had finished and he pulled her into his arms. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he said as he tugged the covers up to their chins. He stroked her hair for a moment, brushed the back of her neck with his knuckles, and she snuggled closer against him, legs still tangled in her skirt and the sheets rather than with his.

"Two years?" she guessed.

"With you, yes. In general, it's been much longer." His hand paused just above the top of her tattoo as if he were afraid to touch it during such an intimate moment. "I'm glad it was you, though, Riza. I don't want anybody else."

The words sent relief through Riza. She buried her face in his neck, kissing it gently. "I am too."


	45. Riza's Pet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like last week, this is an edited T-rated version of the chapter. The M-rated version can be found on my tumblr.

Riza brushed snow from her hair with a gloved hand and bent to scoop a handful of it from the ground by her ankles, packing it into a ball and lobbing it at Roy, who was still gloating about having grazed the top of her head with his last shot. They had agreed to spend at least a little time outside every day unless the weather took a turn for the worse, just as they had during the tedious search of the attic bookshelves. Riza wasn't sure what kind of study break she preferred: their walks now that it wasn't so cold anymore or the ones that ended with Roy kissing her breathless. There was, however, no question which kind Roy preferred, even if he left it up to her to decide whether or not they fooled around in her bed.

Her snowball hit him square in the chest and he dropped the one he had been intending to throw at her, laughing when he bent down again. Riza lobbed another snowball at him. This time, Roy abandoned his previous attempts at retaliation and rushed across the backyard to wrap his arms around her tight, dipping her down until her hair was almost in the snow. She gave a surprised yelp and he lifted her back up to kiss her.

Holding tight to the lapels of his coat, she kissed him back eagerly until he pulled away to catch his breath. The hot air warmed her nose. "You know," she said, "I'd have thought the military training would have improved your aim."

"I wasn't exactly the top of my class at the range," he said.

"I could teach you. We could come out and practice on one of your breaks," she offered. Her fingers played with the lapels between them as she gazed up at Roy.

He grinned. "Maybe once the snow clears up."

"Do you think you'll be here that long?" she asked.

"Who knows? I'd like to be." He kissed her again, one hand moving to tangle in her short hair. "I don't want to leave you again so soon."

"You haven't even finished translating my father's code into Amestrian, let alone understanding what it means. I hope you haven't been stalling for my sake." She didn't want him to go either, and when he did, she wanted to go with him, but thinking about the future right now when she was so happy in the present only made her worry, and she didn't want Roy to see that. Riza had always thought she concealed her feelings well, but Roy seemed to read her face with an ease he could only dream of being able to apply to her back.

Roy frowned. "I'm getting there. It's just a lot of work since I can't copy anything down. Not that I mind, of course," he added when her expression darkened. "Maybe we should go inside so I can warm you up before dinner. Your face feels like ice."

"If you're trying to take revenge on me for kicking your ass just now, I would suggest you try something more creative than tickling. You know that doesn't work," she said straight-faced.

"I don't know," he teased back, "a lot can change in—what—three days?"

They turned to go back inside, arms around each other's waists, Riza's head against Roy's shoulder and his head leaning down to rest against hers. Then she spotted something dark in the snow beneath the kitchen window. "Roy, wait," she said, and she pulled away from him to investigate.

A crow lay on the ground, one of its wings bent at an odd angle. Riza crouched down beside it but the bird was unable to move.

"Please tell me that's not our dinner," Roy teased, bending down beside her with a hand on her back. "You can afford real meat now."

"Don't be an idiot. I'm trying to save it," she said.

Roy shook his head. "It seems pretty close to dying as it is, and besides that, I don't know how to mend bones." He knelt down in the snow, moving his arm up around her shoulder, and kissed the top of her head.

"Then bring me a towel. I'll set the wing myself and we'll keep it in the house until it's better," she said without looking at him.

"As you wish." The pressure from Roy's arm and lips vanished and she heard his footsteps crunching through the snow toward the door. He returned a few moments later with a dishtowel and pressed it into her hands.

Edging forward as slowly as possible, so as not to alarm the bird, Riza reached out and scooped it into the towel. It was too weak to struggle against her. "There, there," she said soothingly, wrapping the towel around the crow until it was completely covered, shielded both from the cold and the potentially frightening sight of her face.

Roy held the door open, and Riza carried the towel to the table, unwrapping it enough to expose the damaged wing. She attempted to fold it properly against the crow's body but it twitched away with a feeble caw.

"I hate hurting you," she told it, "but I'm trying to help." She glanced briefly over at Roy, who stood silently at her elbow. He was watching her with a mixture of surprise and adoration. He knew her well enough to realize that any admonition to give this endeavor up would fall on deaf ears, and after all, wasn't she the one who had reassured him when he thought it was silly of himself to care so much?

"Is there anything else you need? What are you going to feed it?"

"I hadn't thought that far ahead. I'll need some kind of sling to set the bone, and something to function as a nest." Once more, she tried to fold the broken wing back where it went but it caused the crow so much pain she could hardly stand it. Gritting her teeth, she pushed one last time and the wing folded. "Roy?"

"Right, a sling," he said, looking around the kitchen as though there might be one on the ceiling. After a few moments of this, he dashed out while Riza tried to keep the crow still. It was lucky the poor thing had been struggling in the snow beneath the window for so long, elsewise she might not have been able to keep it from getting away from her. It was hard enough holding the wing against its body with its feeble attempts at getting away.

Roy returned after several minutes, out of breath and holding a cleaning rag and an empty box. While Riza held the crow still, he tied it over the broken wing, around the body, and under the healthy wing. "There we go," he said. "Good as new."

"Not quite," Riza said. She stroked the bird's back gently and went to the sink to wash her hands. "We still have to find somewhere to keep it and something to feed it." Looking back over her shoulder, she saw Roy sitting in his usual chair with elbows on the table and chin in his hands.

"If it means so much to you, we can give it a few scraps of meat." He didn't say it, but she could tell he was thinking the same thing she was: that the crow might not last the night. They were simply giving it the most comfortable sendoff they could.

Carefully, Riza lifted the towel into the box Roy had brought, and tried to form it into a comfortable nest with the crow still sitting on it. "Wash your hands first," she said when Roy got up to get the crow its dinner. "And your face, too. I can't believe you touched it."

Roy shrugged but he did as he was told. It was dinnertime for them as well, and as he chopped chicken breasts for Riza to stir fry, he moved a few scraps that were small enough for the crow to swallow to the edge of the cutting board. When he had finished, he carried those scraps to the table and set them in Riza's makeshift nest. The crow only stared at them listlessly.

"Go on, eat it," Roy said, nudging a piece of meat gently. "Tastes like chicken."

Riza gave a weak smile at the joke.

"Come on. I know it's part of a bird, and you're a bird too, but you're not the same kind of bird, and don't crows eat anything?" Roy picked up the smallest piece and held it directly in front of the crow's beak. "Nice and juicy, and it'll make this beautiful lady right here very happy if you eat it."

The crow opened its beak and snatched the chicken from between Roy's fingers.

"Would you look at that? I think I might have competition," he said.

"Well you _are_ a birdbrain sometimes," she said affectionately, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "But you're mine, and I'd never pick an actual bird over you."

"That's a relief," Roy murmured. He started to reach for her but remembered his hands were covered in chicken slime and turned toward the sink instead while Riza watched the crow snap up the last of its dinner. When he returned with clean hands, Roy put his arm around her shoulders. "We did a good deed today."

Riza nodded. "Maybe we should keep it in front of the fire for now, help it warm up after all that time in the snow."

"I'll go start a fire while you make dinner," Roy offered. He picked up the box as carefully as he could and left the kitchen.

Riza washed her hands, turned the stove on, tipped the raw chicken into a pan, and went to collect the rest of the ingredients. By the time Roy came back, dinner was coming along nicely and she was singing softly to herself. "Would you start the rice?" she asked him.

"Sure thing." On a separate burner, he set a pot of water and rice and wrapped his arms around Riza from behind while he waited for it to boil, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Riza," he asked, as though her name were fragile on his tongue, "do you ever resent me?"

"Resent you?" Riza asked. "Roy, we've been through this. If you had stayed, you would have regretted it."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Not about that. Your back, Riza. I'm using you to—"

"Roy Mustang," she snapped, nostrils flaring. "You are not allowed to blame yourself for something that was my decision alone. I didn't have to share it with you. I did so because I trust you, because you're the only person I trust completely. Because you've been such a good friend to me. If anything, you've made the burden lighter because I no longer have to carry it by myself."

Burrowing himself closer against her, he nuzzled her neck. "All that time you did, I don't know how you managed it."

"I've been alone before. It's something I learned to do long ago. Confiding in you has been the exception." She stared down at the frying pan as she stirred its contents listlessly. "It's been a nice exception. My father only ever saw me as a servant or his child. You saw me as an equal. I'll always be grateful for that."

She felt Roy nod against her shoulder, then the pressure from his head and arms vanished as he went to put rice in the now-boiling water. "I still can't forgive myself for abandoning you. Friends are supposed to have each other's—"

"Friends are also supposed to support each other's dreams." Riza set her spoon aside and turned to face him.

"And what's your dream?" Roy asked.

"The same as yours," she said. "Protecting the people of this country, creating a future where no one has to be afraid and everyone can be happy."

He pulled her close, one hand in her short hair, the other on her back. "Then we'll work together to do it. We're quite a team, you and I. No one will be able to stop us."

Riza wondered how long this had been weighing on him, how long his baseless guilt had distorted his view of her affection for him. Hoping to set him even more at ease, she stroked the back of his neck soothingly with the back of her fingers. "If ever I find that I can't trust you anymore, if you've truly used me in the way you described, you will know. But I don't believe you ever will. You're not that kind of man. You're nothing like my father was."

They held each other for only a few moments, torn apart by the need to oversee their dinner, but Roy held her hand as they cooked and his thumb rubbed the back of it. There was still so much she wanted to tell him, so many things to thank him for, but with their fingers twined as they stood in silence, she felt almost as though he could hear her unspoken words. After all, she could hear his apologies in every breath he drew: apologies for doubting her, apologies for leaving her, apologies for all the years before they had met that she had had to suffer through alone. His lips were still parted, as though he intended to give voice to these, or perhaps others, but he said nothing else until they were seated at the table.

"This is what we had that first night, isn't it?" he asked.

Riza nodded.

"I think I like it even better now. It reminds me of you." He took another bite, regarding her thoughtfully as he chewed. "I'm sorry, Riza. I should have asked sooner; I can tell I upset you with that outburst. It might have been better if I had been asking all along."

"But you have been," she said gently. "Every day, you ask if I'm comfortable. You let me decide how long I'm willing to let you study and whether or not you can touch me after. I'll never forgive my father for thinking I was the best way to keep his research safe, but it has brought us closer than you studying from a book ever would have. Because of that, I'll always be glad that I chose to share it with you."

Roy looked down at his food. "Thank you," he said, and through the rest of dinner, he wore a tiny smile that Riza couldn't help but echo.

After, they made their way upstairs but Riza placed her hand on Roy's elbow just before they reached the landing. "The crow," she said. "I'm going to sleep downstairs tonight."

"I'll stay with you," he offered. "You go check on it while I get some blankets."

Riza went back down to the living room and knelt in front of the dying fire beside the crow. It looked so timid that she didn't dare touch it again, so she put another log on the fire and continued to observe the bird from a distance.

When Roy returned, he was laughing. The sound was so completely incongruous with the rest of the setting that it startled her for a moment and she looked over her shoulder to see him grinning in the doorway. "I understand it now," he said as soon as he had collected himself. "You're always looking after everyone—your father, me, that crow you found outside—that's why he asked what he did. He wanted someone to look after you for once, to keep his research safe. It's so obvious now—how could I not see it before? Well, guess what, Master—your daughter means more to me than your research ever will."

"What was that all about?" Riza asked, confused as ever.

"Don't you see? All my fears earlier were what your father wanted me to think, that you were just some vessel for his research, but you aren't and I never thought you were. I even believed he was concerned about your well-being and maybe he was deep down, but it was his research he cared about. All I cared about was you." He dropped the bedding on the couch and moved to sit on the floor beside her.

"Why do you think I trusted you in the first place?" she said.

They got up, went to the couch, and laid the pillow against one of the arms. Roy lay down, and Riza crawled on top of him, spreading the blankets over both of them. She snuggled against his chest, listening to the steady sound of his breathing and the crackles of the fire. Roy stroked her hair with tired fingers, and she scooted up to kiss him goodnight.

As soon as their lips met, she felt electricity surge through her all the way down to her toes. Apparently sensing it too, Roy's hands moved immediately to the buttons of her blouse. She kissed him more deeply, encouraging the action, and reached one arm back to unfasten her bra. She had it off before Roy had even finished with the buttons.

He turned away from the kiss, looking astonished. "I'd always thought that was something passed down mother to daughter. Never would've guessed it was an instinct. How the hell do you manage to do that so quickly?"

Riza smirked. "Practice." Which was something Roy had certainly gotten more of in the past few days. His hands knew exactly what to do now that her shirt hung open, and he palmed her breasts slowly, dragging them across her nipples and then back down to rub them ever so gently beneath his thumbs. It was a familiar rhythm of stroking and teasing, and she relaxed into it, but then he moved his hands down again, running them over her stomach, tracing patterns on it that provided new pleasures.

"Enjoying this?" Roy asked, stealing a kiss before Riza answered.

"Mmhmm," she said. To show him just how much, she arched her back to give him better access and pressed her lips to his Adam's apple, brushing them gently to one side where she opened her mouth, swept over his sensitive skin with her tongue.

Roy moaned but his hands continued roaming over her bare abdomen. "Are you in the mood for something even more adventurous?" he asked.

"Of course," she said. After having spoken so openly before, nothing about this made her feel remotely exposed. She was comfortable with Roy, and she had told him as much. He lifted the hem of her skirt oh so slowly and her stomach squirmed with excitement when she realized where this was heading.

"To make things up to you after I've been so foolish," he said in a choked voice as she kissed a particularly sensitive spot on his neck. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of her panties, to the wetness that had already begun to pool. "Am I doing this right? I asked my sisters for advice but I'd rather have you guide me."

"No fingernails," she said into his neck. "Start slow."

One finger circled her opening, then spread her wetness up toward her clit, stopping just shy of it to stroke each side of her parted labia in turn until she bit down on a small section of skin at the edge of his jaw.

\

His hand twitched, fingers pressing harder against her. When he relaxed again, he stroked up, brushing his thumb over her clit this time, and the sensation made Riza whimper. Roy's hand was so different from her own. He teased her, touching her ever so lightly that she could hardly feel it, only to switch to a firm pressure that sent another wave of wetness into her panties. Still stroking and circling her clit, he slipped a finger inside her, pressing it up as he stroked in and out. She could feel intense pressure inside of her and gasped even though she knew it would do nothing to relieve her. For that, she had to rely on Roy for now. Roy who was so intent on giving her pleasure he hardly seemed to notice that she was nibbling at his earlobe now.

The orgasm came almost unexpectedly, and Riza cried out in surprise when her elbows gave out and she fell onto Roy, trapping his hand between them. He didn't seem to mind; he continued stroking her clit as she pulsed around his finger.

"You should see your face right now," he said sleepily.

"I know. I look like a mess."

"No, you're beautiful." He pressed his lips to hers to give her a chaste kiss goodnight, as though he had exhausted the naughtier side of his personality by pleasuring her. His eyes fluttered closed, and Riza settled her head down onto the pillow beside him to sleep.


	46. The Past

Riza opened her eyes halfway, feeling somewhat confused by the particular location of Roy's hand as she came out of a fuzzy dream. As soon as she remembered, she felt her stomach fill with butterflies and she wriggled away from him to button her shirt. Roy rolled onto his side when he sensed her absence, but he did not wake. The fire had burned out in the light, leaving the room much colder than hers was.

Adjusting her skirt, she walked toward the fireplace. The crow still lay in its nest, so still she hoped it was only asleep. Kneeling beside it, she reached out to touch the bird. It was as cold as the room around it and stiff under her fingers. She struggled to bite back a cry of distress as her heart squeezed painfully.

"What's wrong, Riza?" Roy pushed off the covers and sat up, stretching. Then comprehension spread across his face. "Your crow died, didn't it?"

She nodded sadly. "I feel like I can't save anything these days."

"We just found it too late, that's all; it probably already had hypothermia. At least you gave it a nice meal and a comfortable bed in front of the fire," Roy said. He moved across the room to put his arms and a blanket around her. "You shouldn't blame yourself for your father's death either. We've already talked about that"

Her throat felt so tight that she could only nod again. Roy's arms held her closer, and he feathered kisses across her face. When she found her voice again, she said, "I'll take it outside and leave it for a fox or other birds. There's no point in digging a grave for a wild animal."

Letting the blanket fall from her shoulders, Riza stood, lifting the box as she did. Roy followed her at a distance, as though he wasn't sure how best to comfort her now that she had shrugged off his embrace. They put on coats and shoes in the hall. The quiet between them made Riza wonder what he was thinking and if he was embarrassed by his actions beneath her skirt the night before in the light of day and what they had discovered upon waking.

She hugged the box to her chest again, pausing when Roy turned toward the kitchen. "About last night," she said.

"It was too soon, wasn't it?" he asked, looking guilty. "We can go back to—"

"That's not what I was going to say," she said.

He seemed to perk up considerably at her words. "Oh?"

"I was going to say thank you. It was nice." She swept her bangs out of her eye and smiled at him.

"Just nice, huh?" he said.

Riza nodded. "Practice would help, and so would a less confined space."

"Practice?" he asked.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" She stood on her toes to give him a quick peck on the lips. "I would too."

"It would be a nice addition to our study breaks," he said. His hands found their way to her hair, alternating between smoothing and ruffling it, tangling his fingers in it as he pulled her in for another kiss.

She cleared her throat and he stepped back. "I think we should take care of this first," she said, holding up the box.

Outside, they crunched through the snow side by side. She wished Roy would put his arm through hers, but he kept his distance as though the crow in her arms were bad luck. Only when she knelt down to undo the bandage and leave the corpse in the snow beneath one of the trees just beyond the fence did he touch her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezed it so lightly she could barely feel it through her coat. When she stood up again, towel and sling still in the box, Roy followed. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said. "I just wish I could have done more. My mother was a nurse and I had hoped I might be more like her."

"I think I know just the thing to cheer you up then." He put an arm around her shoulders, holding her tight. It almost certainly wasn't what he had meant, but it helped all the same.

Inside, she set the box beside the washtub and washed her hands while Roy disappeared to find whatever it was that was supposed to make her feel better. She was half surprised it didn't involve his mouth and a continuation of what they had started last night, but from the time it was taking for him to return, she assumed it was something tangible.

"Close your eyes," Roy said from the doorway. He was holding something behind his back.

She obliged and heard him set something on the table before he approached. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck as he fastened something around it. She started to reach up as he pressed a kiss just above the necklace.

"Open them," he said.

Without a mirror in the kitchen, it wasn't particularly easy to see how she looked, but she could see enough to know what he had done. "My mother's necklace," she said, turning around. "You remembered!"

"Of course I did. I bought it to make up for missing two of your birthdays, although I know now it does nothing to make up for what you got instead," he said sadly. Tracing the line of pearls with one finger, he leaned down to kiss her throat.

Riza cradled his head against her chest. "It's not your fault, Roy. How many times do I have to remind you of that?"

"We could be married with three kids twenty years from now, and I'll still hate myself for not taking you to Central with me when I left for the academy." Roy burrowed his face deeper into her sweater as she tightened her embrace.

"I would hope by then we'll have been able to move past that."

She leaned down to feather kisses in his hair, a knot forming in her stomach. Marriage was one thing, but Roy sounded so serious about the children. She couldn't help but imagine a little girl with her father's dark hair and eyes running home from school to find Riza dead or dying and Roy slowly slipping from reality as the cycle started over again—the curse of the Hawkeye family and flame alchemists two generations running. Possibly more, since she knew nothing about her parents' histories. But she was supposed to be comforting Roy now and there would be years and years for them to discuss the future and for her to explain her desire to keep their family limited to the two of them.

"Maybe you should take the day off," Riza said when Roy looked up at her.

His expression turned sheepish. "That's the last thing I deserve."

"If looking at my back makes you feel guilty, then I'd rather we do something else while you're already in the mood to beat yourself up over it." She hugged him tight, trying to convey all her affection, all her faith in him through the gesture.

"If that's what you're concerned about, I think we should pick something that doesn't involve either of us removing clothing," Roy said.

Riza nodded. It was understandable, of course, even though she wanted to continue last night's activities and possibly take them even further. "We never went through the books in my father's room," she said. "I want to see if we can find anything about my family. I don't even know my mother's maiden name."

After they ate breakfast, Roy took her hand to lead her upstairs where they sprawled out on the floor of her father's bedroom with a stack of books in front of them and their bodies pressed close. They looked through the books together, moving novels and alchemic texts aside. They were almost through with the first bookcase before they found something worth looking at: a photo album.

"Is that you?" Roy asked, pointing to a picture with yellowing edges. A girl with a missing tooth in her broad grin held up an enormous trout.

"It can't be. I lost my first tooth after Mother died and Father never took any pictures after that—I even sold the camera. It must be her." Riza slipped the photograph carefully from the page and turned it over. The name and date on the back were scrawled in a messy cursive but her eyes widened as realization hit. "No," she whispered. "It can't be."

"What can't be?" Roy asked, reaching for the photo.

"'Emily Grumman, 1869,'" Riza read.

"That name's familiar." Roy rubbed his chin. "I believe there's a General Grumman in the East—wasn't he the one that soldier in the woods mentioned?"

"Exactly. And before that, one of my father's apprentices—the only one who was nice to me before you came along—he was a soldier, too, sent by Grumman. He must have known my father and ordered that man here to recruit my father after he learned of my mother's death." Riza sat up and buried her face in her knees. It was strange that it had happened long after Emily Hawkeye had been dead and buried, but she didn't know what was worse: Grumman not having known until then or the possibility that he just didn't care.

Roy sat as well, pulling her into his lap as he stroked her hair and the back of her neck. His fingers stopped at the string of pearls, treating it as a barrier from the back that was off limits today. His other arm was wrapped so tightly around her that his hand rubbed her stomach.

"No wonder he hated soldiers," Roy said into her hair. "Are you alright?"

"I'm not sure yet," Riza admitted. She leaned into his embrace, letting his touch comfort her as she leaned her head against his shoulder. "Finding out that I still have family is one thing, but it had to be him. Hell, I don't even know him but he's probably no different than that soldier in the woods. Maybe he's even worse because he's got a prestigious rank." She gave a bitter laugh and Roy squeezed her tighter.

"He doesn't have to be your family if you don't want him to be," he said. When she looked at him quizzically, he added, "Some of the girls at the bar—they ended up there because their families were shit. We gave them a new family. I could do the same for you. Well, not the same, of course. I don't want you to be my sister."

Riza raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you proposing marriage?"

"No, no, not right now. I'd want to be settled first: have my state license, find a nice place to live. Not just some shitty bachelor's apartment like I was planning on, but a place we could raise a family when we're ready."

There it was again, and this time, she didn't dare stay silent about it. "Roy, I don't want kids."

"Really?" He looked so crestfallen that a wave of guilt swept over her.

"Really," she said gently. "I'd be so afraid of abandoning them the way I was, afraid that you'd become like my father—or that you might die before you even got to meet them."

Roy considered this for a moment before he nodded. "Alright, then. No kids."

"Just like that?" She was almost relieved but still the tiniest bit skeptical of him for changing his mind so quickly.

"Just like that. I may want kids, but I'd rather be with you. I love you, Riza."

The words hung between them for the space of several seconds where Riza's heart didn't seem to be beating at all. She struggled to find her tongue in the shock that shouldn't have been there at all. Hadn't she known all along that Roy loved her? And didn't he already know that she returned his feelings? He was starting to look upset again, opening his mouth in what she assumed was going to be an apology for saying it too soon. "I love you, too," she said before he could speak.

When he kissed her this time, all the usual lust was absent. The desire on his lips was based solely in the comfort he found at having her in his arms and wanting to keep her at his side. And oh how she wanted to stay there, to go with him to Central straight away without waiting for him to get his state license. But what would she do there? Apply to a university and become a nurse like her mother or a teacher like Ms. Carlisle? She wanted to help people, to protect everyone she could, most of all the man she was kissing so eagerly. All at once, a new plan came to her, fully formed and curling her lips into a smile. It was so obvious she wondered how she hadn't thought of it before. Becoming a soldier would allow her to stay with him even in the most dangerous of circumstances, places a civilian wife could never go. And what kind of life would it be if she simply sat around waiting for him like she had for the past year? No, this was perfect. She loved Roy Mustang, and he loved her, and together they would be able to protect each other and the country they loved as well. Now, the only thing that remained was to tell him, but neither of them was willing to break this new, tender kiss.


	47. The Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like before, this is an edited T-rated version of the chapter. The M-rated version can be found on my tumblr

Chapter 47: The Future

As it happened, Riza refrained from telling Roy about her plans. A small part of her enjoyed the way his dark eyes shone when he talked about his vision for their future. With the salary of a State Alchemist, they could travel the world like he'd promised her back in the days when they'd only recently become friends. She could have listened to him forever, content to live in the dream he spun for them with her head in his lap as they sat on her bed well into the evening, the books in the other room completely forgotten. His hand played with her hair and hers with the string of pearls around her neck as she gazed up at him, struggling to ignore her traitorous heart that beat so painfully with the knowledge that none of what he said was to be.

"You're getting sleepy," Roy said affectionately as her eyelids began to droop.

She blinked a couple of times and forced her eyes wide as they would go. "I'm sorry. It's not you."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Sleeping on the couch like that wasn't good for either of us. I still have a kink in my wrist."

A knot of pleasure formed in Riza's stomach as she remembered the previous night's activities, but between Roy's hesitation and their confession, tonight was more about love than sex, so she attempted to will it away. A cold shower would also do the trick, though she longed to take a long, hot one with him.

"We should probably get cleaned up and go to bed," she suggested.

Roy yawned. "You're right. You want first shower?"

"It's all yours," she said, somewhat disappointed when he didn't offer to let her join him. She removed the necklace and placed it carefully in the drawer of her nightstand. In the morning, she would ask him for the box so it would be better protected.

After her shower, Riza rushed back the bedroom, shivering the whole way. Maybe a cold shower hadn't been such a good idea. She hurried into bed and snuggled close against a startled Roy who immediately began an attempt to warm her up.

"I didn't think I was in there that long," he said. "Next time, you go first."

"If you insist."

He kissed her the same way he had in her father's bedroom, with a lingering tenderness that calmed her worries and pushed away the sensation of cold that had left gooseflesh on her arms. One of his hands moved to cup her face, thumb caressing her cheek. When the kiss ended, they remained close, foreheads and noses touching. "I love you," he said again.

"Love you," she echoed sleepily. The heat from Roy's body and the blankets tangled around them had finally warmed Riza all the way to the core, bringing exhaustion with it.

* * *

 

In the morning, Riza woke with Roy practically on top of her, still fast asleep. She tried to wriggle out from under him but he was too heavy and his arms held her tight. "Roy," she whispered, "wake up."

"Huh?" He shifted slightly and his eyes fluttered open. Smiling when he saw her, Roy shifted so that they lay side by side, still holding her close. "Sorry. I didn't realize I was using you as my pillow."

"'S fine," she said. After all, he was only returning the favor after she had slept on him the night before.

Roy still looked a little sheepish as he caressed her arm. "How's breakfast in bed sound?"

"I'm already going to have to spend the whole day in bed while you study," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"I don't have to study today." Roy's hand moved up to her shoulder, then to her face. He pushed her bangs away from her eye. "There are other parts I'm more concerned with than your back at the moment. Your lips, for instance."

The butterflies returned to Riza's stomach as he moved to kiss her good morning. His closed mouth was sweet against hers, opening only to tug at her lips during a few of the short kisses that followed.

"And maybe your neck," he added, looking thoughtful for a moment before he set to kissing her again, this time trailing his open mouth across her throat.

"I thought you wanted to keep this innocent," Riza said. Not that she minded this sudden change of direction, of course.

Roy shrugged, pulling away to look at her with a delightfully naughty expression. "I mentioned breakfast and realized I'd rather have you than pancakes." His hand moved down to her waist and he pushed her onto her back.

After, when he had finished pleasuring her and she sank back into the mattress, Roy crawled up to kiss her on the mouth. It was short and affectionate, and when he had finished, he was smiling again. "Are you satisfied or should I keep going?"

"I think that's enough for now."

"So," he said with a cocky smile, "pancakes for you?"

"I was thinking something more along the lines of sausage," Riza said.

"No, not yet." Roy twined his fingers with Riza's before she could undo his pants.

She frowned. "If not now, then when? I know you just go and take care of yourself in the bathroom after, and it's not fair that you never let me reciprocate."

"Look, Riza, I won't feel comfortable with it until I've finished learning flame alchemy." Squeezing her hands, he kissed the tip of her nose. "Equivalent exchange, and I've already taken enough from you as it is."

"That's not true. You've never stopped giving since you came back. Please, Roy, trade me places. You don't have to feel guilty." Riza pulled her hands away to cup his face, caressing his cheeks with her thumbs.

He kissed her again. "Neither do you. I like making you feel good."

"And I'd like to return the favor."

They looked at each other for several moments, and she could feel Roy's breath warming her face. "Please, Riza, I'd rather wait, if that's alright with you. I'm almost finished. It won't be more than a week, I promise."

"In that case, pancakes will be fine," she said, concealing her disappointment. When Roy rolled off her at last, she got up to collect her panties and to take a shower. The steam helped relax her, and by the time she got down to the kitchen, all the tension she had felt before was gone. Roy, whistling as he cooked, seemed to feel the same.

Setting the frying pan aside, Roy turned to greet her. "I'm sorry if I upset you earlier. I should have explained myself at a better time."

Riza went to his side to begin cracking the eggs he had left out. "Thank you. I shouldn't have been so defensive." She scrambled the eggs, watching as Roy poured batter into his pan. He paused for a moment to kiss her.

"If all of our arguments end like this, I can't wait to spend the rest of our lives together. Cooking breakfast and kissing and having what I'm guessing will be the most incredible sex in all of Amestris." Kissing her again, Roy seemed to forget all about the breakfast they were currently making.

She pulled away with her stomach growling. "All of that sounds lovely, but I think we should worry about today first."

"Well, I know I need to study, but I think we could make it into town to pick up supplies in case it gets stormy again," Roy said, moving the pan to a burner.

"If, by supplies, you mean condoms, I already bought a box." Riza looked up at him through her eyelashes and he pulled her in for another, much rougher kiss.

"So you had this planned all along, Riza?" he said, pulling away just enough to speak and resting his forehead against hers. "Explains why you took so long in that drugstore. I thought it was strange you took so long just getting tampons."

"I've never bought them before so I wasn't sure what I was doing," she explained.

Roy rubbed his nose against hers. "Maybe I should check. Before I left for the Academy, I asked around the bar a bit, found some unopened ones, and tried them. Not with anybody, of course. Just so I'd be ready when I saw you again."

"If you'd like to try the ones I bought after breakfast, you may." Riza slipped out of his arms again to put the eggs into a pan.

After turning the pancake over, Roy looked at her suspiciously. "You just want to watch, don't you?"

"Maybe."

All through breakfast, Roy looked somehow smug and nervous at the same time. Riza sat with her feet in his lap and her heart pounding. When the food was gone and the dishes clean, they went back up to Riza's bedroom. Roy stretched out on the bed while Riza rifled through her nightstand.

When she had found what she was looking for, she dropped the box of condoms onto Roy's stomach and held the lube out for his inspection. "Is this the right kind?" she asked. "I've only heard about it from the schoolyard."

Roy sat up and took the bottle gingerly. "This looks like the stuff I've seen before. I think it's fairly standard." His voice gave away just how flustered he was. Riza found it endearing.

"And the condoms?" she asked.

"They'll fit," he said quickly. "This is the one of the kinds I tried before. I wouldn't want to waste one now that I know it's going to work."

Riza wanted to scream with impatience, but she knew it would do no good. Roy had his heart set on waiting, and nothing she could say would make him feel better about consummating their relationship before he was finished using her as an alchemy text. Returning the supplies to her nightstand drawer, she caught sight of the necklace and remembered that she didn't want to keep it loose. _It's only a week_ , she reminded herself as she turned to ask him for the box for her necklace. He jumped up to get it for her immediately, and as she followed him out of the room, she felt excitement knotting in her stomach that had nothing to do with pearls.


	48. A Spark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like before, this is an edited T-rated version of the chapter. The M-rated version can be found on my tumblr.

Riza shifted on the bed, about to roll over and ask Roy if he was at a good stopping point for her to take a bathroom break after spending nearly the entire day waiting patiently for him to finish his studies. They hadn't even had lunch yet, and it was already early evening. As soon as she started to speak, she felt Roy press his palm flat against her spine.

"Wait just a few more seconds, Riza, I think I've got it this time."

He'd been saying that for almost two weeks now. His promised timeframe for finishing had come and gone three weeks ago. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was stalling, whether out of fear of taking the next step in their physical relationship or out of fear of leaving to take the state exam, she couldn't tell. She assumed it was both.

"That has to be it. I just need a lighter and the fireplace and we'll see. Come on!" He jumped up and she followed suit, noting that he didn't even seem to register that she was sitting up half-naked in front of him. Even after months, that still got him excited, but not today. She dressed with him watching her impatiently; before she had even had a chance to tuck her blouse in, he took her hand to lead her out of the room.

Riza waited patiently for him to search his coat pockets for a lighter. "Don't you need a circle, too?" she asked.

"It was on your back," he said. "It's a little overcomplicated, but I think I can simplify it after some experiments."

"Unless you intend to use my back to perform the transmutation, that's not what I meant," she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. It was warmer outside now, but still drafty in here with the windows and the front door and the sun low on the horizon.

Roy held out his coat to her instead of putting it back on the rack. "Just until I get a fire going," he said. "I'll still need a pen though, unless…"

"Unless what?" Riza asked, slipping her arms into his coat. It dragged on the floor behind her as she followed him back upstairs.

He pulled a piece of chalk from the top drawer of her desk, where he must have left it nearly two years before. He pushed his books aside to make room for a circle, placing the lighter in the middle when he had finished. With a deep breath, he placed his hands on the edges of the circle; Riza shivered involuntarily as it lit up, feeling her back prickle.

When Roy picked up the lighter again, he gave it to her for inspection.

"I left the words off, but everything else is there, just in case. I'll modify it later if this works."

Riza examined the tiny etching on the side of the lighter. "I had no idea," she said softly, holding it up for the light to better catch the impressions in the silver. "All this time, I never had any desire to see it, and it's even stranger than I imagined it would be. I'd never have guessed my back was covered in reptiles."

"I think that's supposed to be a salamander, actually," Roy said, pointing at the tiny lizard she could barely make out.

"Two reptiles and an amphibian then." It was so strange to be holding her tattoo—modified or not—in her hand after all this time. So this is what Roy saw when he looked at her, spread across her shoulder blades and trailing down her spine. She thought of all the absentminded touches in a new light, realized all the times he must have traced the twining serpents. "I'm not really sure these were necessary," she said, tracing them in miniature. "They're not part of the circle."

Roy shrugged. "Maybe not, but I like them. Twining together, wearing crowns. It's almost like us."

"I don't recall ever wearing a crown," Riza said.

"When I get my state license, we'll be living like royalty," he explained. "You deserve to be treated like a queen after everything you've been through. In all those stories you're so fond of, doesn't the lonely girl with a bad childhood eventually get to marry the prince?"

Riza smiled and handed the lighter back to Roy. "I suppose so, but as a rule, princes don't grow up in bars."

"And I'm sure they don't besmirch their lady love's honor before the wedding night. I guess we'll never be a fairytale." Roy started to flick the lighter absentmindedly but Riza held out a hand to stop him before he accidentally transmuted the fire straight to her bed or the curtains.

"That's alright," she said. "I never wanted a fairytale anyhow."

"Maybe a comedy, then," Roy said as he pulled her into a one-armed hug, careful to keep the lighter away from both of them. When he pulled away, she took his hand again, this time leading him downstairs. There were already a few logs beside the fireplace and she knelt dutifully to move them into position. Dusting her hands, she went to his side. Holding the lighter in one hand, he used the other to squeeze her fingers for reassurance.

"Maybe we should do this outside," he said, thumb still poised to use the lighter.

"You'll be fine," Riza said.

She heard the lighter strike and a ball of fire shot toward the fireplace, warming her for an instant as it passed. As soon as the shock wore off for both of them, they turned to each other, and she could see her own giddiness reflected in Roy's dark eyes.

"What did I tell you?" she said, wrapping her arms around him as he pulled her close.

He kissed her softly for a moment, then, with his lips nearly touching hers, he said, "Thank you." He kissed her again. "For believing in me all this time."

"You're welcome," she managed to say through the wave of emotion that flooded her. He was done; he would be leaving soon. She kissed him as though he had to go already, letting all her love and desire mix together, stronger than she had even realized after all these months of holding back.

This time, they kissed until they were both out of breath, and all Roy could say was, "Wow." She leaned up to kiss him again but he stopped her. "We haven't eaten since breakfast, and I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

"I'll make dinner then," she said. "You've earned the night off from cooking."

"You're afraid I might use this new lighter to help, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not. It wouldn't be of any use boiling noodles." She lowered her hands to her waist. "I just want you in the cellar, looking for the nicest bottle of wine."

"And the rats?"

"Target practice," she said. "Speaking of which, it's finally starting to get warm out. You can practice with a gun as well."

"Not tonight," he said.

Riza shook her head. "I have other plans for tonight."

Alone in the kitchen, she tied on her apron and set a pot of water on the stove beside an empty pot she intended to use for the sauce. For now, however, she was occupied with the matter of decorating. The dining room only held unpleasant memories for both of them, so the shabby table in here would have to do.

When the sauce was simmering and the pasta boiling, she started looking for a tablecloth. She had to move a chair to retrieve it from the top shelf of the pantry, where she also found a pair of candles that were still in decent condition. Just as she began to set the table, there was a knock at the door.

"I can take it from here," Roy offered.

She opened the door to see him standing in a suit with a bottle of wine in hand and his hair slicked back.

Grateful for the chance to get cleaned up before dinner, Riza went upstairs to wash her face and change. There wasn't time for a shower, which Roy had clearly taken from the steam still on the mirror. She changed into the lavender dress she had worn on their first date and combed her hair. Tonight, it didn't matter if her back was exposed or not, though she did wish that she could wear her pearls without the risk of the necklace getting broken.

Roy had the table set and candles lit by the time she returned. All that remained was to serve their food, which he did as she walked through the door, though he seemed a little awestruck.

"You really are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he said.

Riza took her place in the chair he had already pulled out for her. "Thank you," she said.

Carefully, Roy brought their plates over and sat, reaching for the wine he had opened while she was upstairs. He filled both their glasses and raised his own. "To us," he said.

"To us," she echoed.

The wine was different than the others she'd tasted, and she supposed that was because it was nicer. She could hardly taste the alcohol in it, and it went perfectly with the sauce she had made.

"When we're married, we should do this at least once a week," Roy said. "Except we'll cook together."

With the candles flickering between them and the promise of what was to come, Riza allowed herself one night to pretend that Roy's vision of the future would come true. "I'd like that."

"Are you nervous?" he asked.

"No. Are you?"

"Just a little," he admitted.

She reached for his hand across the table. "You'll be fine."

"This tastes wonderful, Riza. I've always loved your cooking." Their eyes met, hands still joined, and Riza felt her heart begin to pound.

They left their dishes in the sink. As soon as Riza reached for the soap, Roy reached for her. He scooped her into his arms and she made a tiny noise of surprise and delight as he carried her out of the kitchen and up to her bedroom.

"Are you ready?" she asked when he set her down on the floor in front of the bed.

Roy nodded. He slipped out of his jacket and loosened his tie. "I want you—I've wanted you for so long." His lips were demanding when they met hers, and she could feel his restraint slipping away with every button she undid.

After, Riza got up to use the bathroom, taking a moment to admire her flushed cheeks and damp, disheveled hair in the mirror. When she returned, Roy was under the covers, watching her appreciatively until she slipped into bed beside him. She turned off the lamp and settled onto her pillow, exhausted. Roy pulled her into his arms, gently stroking the back of her neck. She thought she heard him whisper that he loved her, but she was already asleep.


	49. Target Practice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an M-rated version on my blog.
> 
> I know I said I'd try for regular updates all the way to the end, but I'm really sick and school's kind of hectic right now on top of it so there might be delays on the last few chapters. Thanks for reading and putting up with me; I'm terribly sorry about this.

Chapter 49: Target Practice

When she woke, Riza's skin stuck to Roy's, and his breath tickled her face. He looked so peaceful that she decided not to wake him. Instead, she studied his long, dark lashes while they were tangled together. His eyes were so captivating she hadn't taken the time to appreciate how beautiful his lashes were before. She wanted to kiss them, but also to revel in this sight she knew she would soon lose. Perhaps not forever, once they had settled into a routine of lives lived separate for the public and together for themselves alone. But for the years that awaited her in the academy, she would have to hold onto this memory.

Roy stirred then, his eyes fluttering open and his face losing some of its peace to confusion, then to memory, then to the same desire she had seen just last night.

"Close your eyes," she said in a voice still hoarse with sleep.

"What?"

"I want to kiss you," she said.

Roy's lips curled into a warm smile and he did as she asked. She kissed his eyelids gently, dragging her lips away over the lashes, and she felt Roy relax again in her arms.

"That's not what I expected," he said when she had pulled away and he had opened his eyes again.

"What did you expect?" she asked, though she had an idea.

With her permission, Roy's hands began to wander, and soon, another condom had disappeared from the box. Their lovemaking had a better rhythm this morning, though it still belied the clumsy inexperience of two young people who had just begun experimenting with each other. They held each other after, dozing just as they had the night before.

Roy woke first this time, and Riza felt him stroking her hair as she opened her eyes. "Again?" he asked.

"Food first," Riza said. "I'm starving and a little sore anyway."

"Sore? Was I too rough with you?" he asked, caressing her waist apologetically.

Riza shook her head. "No, no, of course not. You were perfect. It's more like running when you haven't for a while. My muscles just aren't used to being stretched like that yet."

"I'll let you decide when you're ready." He gave her a gentle kiss, and she could taste his reluctance to end it as he pulled away. "Can I shower with you at least? I didn't get a chance to take one last night."

"Of course."

Stepping into the hot water with Roy put another wave of butterflies in Riza's stomach. His touch was innocent as he shampooed her hair, massaging it into her scalp until she sighed with pleasure and leaned her back into his chest.

When they were both clean, Riza turned off the water and Roy wrapped them both in his towel, holding Riza close as he rubbed her back dry. Water dripped from Roy's hair onto her face and he smirked. "Looks like I'm getting you wet again."

"Don't push your luck. I'm getting drier by the minute."

Roy kissed her. "Don't worry. I'm not about to go back on my word." He finished drying them both and they helped each other into their clothes. "What would you say to breakfast in town?" he asked

Pursing her lips, Riza considered it. Her stomach was growling but they hadn't been to town in weeks, so they would have to buy groceries to make a proper breakfast, and she was tired of eating pancakes. "We should get going."

The snow had nearly melted, leaving only small patches in the shade. Overhead, high clouds sailed past, sometimes blocking the sun. A few wildflowers had broken through the morning frost, dotting the surrounding fields. With her arm through Roy's, Riza leaned against his shoulder, feeling as content as she ever had.

Roy looked over at her and she could see the love in his eyes that made her feel as though everything would work out and broke her heart all the same. Would he still look at her like that if he knew what she was planning? Would he believe her if she told him that she very much wanted to marry him, but that it was more important to keep him safe?

"What's wrong?" he asked, frowning, though his eyes still held the same affection.

"Something stupid," she said. Maybe it really was. Maybe she was a fool for thinking Roy was any less capable of looking out for himself than she was, but the idea of losing him frightened her far more than the thought of never wearing his ring and taking his name.

"You sure?"

"Positive."

He shifted his arm away from hers to take her hand. "You know you can tell me anything, no matter how stupid you think it is."

"It doesn't matter," she lied.

"Everything you have to say matters to me but if you'd rather keep it to yourself, I won't force it out of you." Squeezing her hand, he smiled, and it was so genuine and reassuring that she almost wanted to tell him the truth.

Almost. "I'll consider it."

Outside town, the Saturday market was already filled with customers. One of them pulled away from the crowd and ran up to throw her arms around Riza, who was still holding tight to Roy's hand.

"Claire?" she asked in surprise.

"I've been so worried about you. I thought you'd come back to school now that you didn't have to take care of your father and then I thought you were mourning but you were gone so long I was starting to think something had happened to you," Claire said with a suspicious glance in Roy's direction.

Roy took a step away and held his hands up. "I would never hurt Riza. I've been helping her sort through her father's belongings and settle his estate so she can move to Central by the time university classes start at the end of the summer."

"Move in with you, more like." To Riza, she added, "Make sure you get a ring out of him before he goes. You know what they say about soldiers."

"That they die?" Riza said, hoping Roy wouldn't realize how close this came to their earlier conversation.

Claire looked horrified, then guilty as she appeared to remember Ms. Carlisle's brother, then she returned to her previous stern expression as she looked back at Roy. "No, that they stray. They'll write fondly to the girl they left back home but if they're sent off to a war, they have to take their comfort somewhere."

"I'm right here, you know," Roy said indignantly.

"Good, then you'll hear me say that if Riza ever tells me you've abandoned her for some wartime comfort, you'll have to answer to both of us."

"I would never do something like that, you have my word. War is no place for those kinds of relationships. Wanting to get back to Riza is the closest I would come." He took her hand again.

Claire narrowed her eyes at him as though checking his face for any sign that he was being insincere. When she found none, she smiled at the two of them. "I'll be leaving for Drachma this summer for university, but I'll write you with my new address. I expect an invitation to the wedding, so don't you chicken out, Mustang." She gave Riza one last hug and headed back into the market.

"I'd hate to get on her bad side," Roy said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I had planned on giving you my mother's ring, but if you'd rather I took you shopping today—"

"The only shopping I want to do today is for groceries," Riza said quickly. "I'd be honored to wear your mother's ring one day." She found a small, selfish part of herself hoping that he would tire of the military quickly, that his first battle would convince him to retire so she could as well, so that she could wear that ring and send Claire the invitation she wanted, and have a chance to live out those dreams Roy had painted for her.

They had breakfast in the same café they had eaten in on the morning after her father's death. This time, Riza ordered a ham and cheese omelet and breakfast tea. Roy ordered two waffles, a side of bacon, and coffee that he put so much cream and sugar into that Riza wasn't sure it could even be considered coffee anymore.

Roy pulled Riza's chair out for her, then took one beside it. Under the table, he stroked her thigh until a waiter brought their food. As soon as the waiter had gone, Roy resumed the attention, this time venturing higher, though Riza made no objection, only smiled into her tea.

"Since the weather's nice today, I'm going to take you shooting when we get home," Riza said between bites.

Roy frowned and took a sip of coffee. "I wanted to practice alchemy."

"I'm not going to trust your aim until I've seen how you handle a gun. I still remember what your first transmutations looked like, back when you couldn't concentrate. Poor aim with this is going to cause a lot more danger than my father berating you for improper technique." Riza observed the piece of omelet on her fork for a moment before adding, "Once I'm satisfied, you can practice with flames outside the house."

"I know several ways of satisfying you," Roy said in a low voice.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't start that now. Save it for tonight. I might do something extra special if you do well today."

That was all the encouragement Roy seemed to need. His curiosity got the better of him and he spent the rest of the morning trying to wheedle her plans out of her.

"Does it involve lingerie?" he asked as they left the restaurant.

"I don't even own any."

"I can change that." And so had let him pick out a set in her size, complete with garter and stockings. The sight of it had made her nervous, but she chided herself for the response. These things were for Roy's eyes only, never to be seen outside the privacy of their bedroom, and she did like the idea of doing something special for Roy after he had done so much for her.

Riza spent their trip to the grocery store attempting to conceal the bag and was relieved to put it in with their food after they had paid. The relief, however, was short lived, as Roy came up with another idea. "Strip chess?"

"I hadn't thought of it, but if you'd like to be the only one naked for once, it would be a pleasant change for me."

Roy stopped making guesses after that. He stood close to her the entire time they were at the market, presumably imagining her in the lingerie he had just bought, disguising impure thoughts behind his warm eyes and otherwise impassive face. Taking his hand, she led him from stall to stall until they had all the food they would need for the week.

At home, Roy put the groceries away, leaving the special bag on the table for Riza to handle. She didn't want to wear it while teaching Roy to shoot properly, so she carried it upstairs, leaving it on her bed and taking Roy's lighter from the clothes he had left on the floor last night. When she returned, Roy was holding her gun. He had dumped the rest of the coffee into the can he had bought today, leaving a decent target for him to practice with. The back fence was too high, so Riza had him place the can on a barrel.

"What if I shoot the barrel?" he asked.

Riza patted his arm. "Then I'll write a strongly worded letter to the academy telling them what a disgraceful job they did training you." She helped him adjust his arms to the proper position as he aimed the gun at the can.

"I've never done this standing up before. At the range, they had us on our stomachs," Roy said.

"That's easy. Anyone can do that. I won't trust you with flame alchemy until you can shoot a bullet straight through that can while standing up."

"But Riza," he said, drawing out the "i" in a wheedling tone that she wasn't about to give in to.

"Come on, Roy, I know you can do it. Now loosen your back; it's too tense." She moved her hands from his arm to his shoulders, massaging them until they came down to their normal position. "There, now aim and shoot."

He hit neither the can nor the barrel. Riza wasn't able to tell where the bullet had gone, but she gave Roy's shoulders a reassuring squeeze all the same.

"Maybe it would be easier if I couldn't feel your breath on my neck," he said. "It's making me think about tonight."

Stepping aside, Riza folded her arms across her chest. "Try again."

This time, Roy's bullet grazed the top of the can.

"This gun is shitty."

"So's your aim," Riza said coolly.

Another shot went through the bottom of the can near the side.

"Better."

The next came closer to the middle. "How was that?" Roy asked, lowering the gun.

"Repeat it a few more times and then I'll let you have the lighter." As an incentive, she pulled it from her blouse's pocket and held it out for him to see.

"Yes, ma'am."

After a few poor shots, he began to consistently hit the middle section of the can, though he never quite hit the center. When Riza proudly handed over the lighter, she took the gun. Her first shot hit the unmarked metal in the dead center of the can, leaving Roy gaping.

"Let's take you somewhere you won't burn the entire countryside if the wind picks up."

They went to the river, standing side by side on the bank as Roy thumbed the striker nervously. "Maybe you shouldn't stand right next to me, just in case something goes wrong. The last thing I want to do is burn you."

Riza nodded, stepped back, and waited for Roy to attempt his alchemy. The first shot was little more than a flurry of sparks that danced just above the surface of the river until they were halfway across. The second was far more impressive: a swirling column of fire that materialized in the place the sparks had vanished. The column rearranged itself into a horizontal mass about three meters above the water; slanted to the right, it contained strange gaps of sky behind the orange glow.

"I was trying to spell your name," Roy explained. "It's a lot harder than it looks."

"Was that _supposed_ to be a heart over the 'I'?" Riza asked as the flames faded.

"Harder than it looks!" Roy repeated. This time, the dot was a solid blob that melded into both the "R" and the "z".

Riza shrugged. "I thought the heart was kind of sweet."

He practiced until sunset, when he finally managed to spell out both of their names, surrounded by a heart. True, it looked worse than Roy's sloppiest handwriting, but Riza stepped forward to wrap her arms around his waist and bury her face in his back.

"Let's go make dinner," she said. "We skipped lunch, and I'm sure you're as hungry as I am."

Roy had his arm around Riza the whole way home and she leaned into his warmth, enjoying the protection from the cold spring dusk. Humming contentedly, she snuggled close to him. She could feel his fingers squeeze her arm through the sleeve of her shirt, fingers that always touched her softly, no matter how calloused they might be. She turned to kiss his shoulder, suddenly aware of a desire to be even closer to him, and a nagging voice at the back of her mind asking whether it wasn't a good idea to just marry him after all.

"What do you want for dinner?" Riza asked when they stepped into the kitchen.

He gave her a lopsided grin. "You. But if that has to wait for dessert, anything fast is fine."

"Something fast it is, then," Riza said, twisting to slip her hands into the back pockets of Roy's pants and pull his hips against hers. As he responded eagerly to her advances, she couldn't help but think how nice his ass felt under her hands. She couldn't remember having done this before and regretted not taking the opportunity sooner.

While they waited for the stew to cook, she sat in his lap at the table, kissing him eagerly as their hands wandered over each other's bodies, stroking and caressing until they had to pull away to stir the stew. Only Riza's rumbling stomach kept her from leading Roy up to her bed and saving dinner for later.


	50. Sewing and Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's only a day late; I can't believe I finished it so quickly. I'll try my best to get next week's up on time, but it looks like an even busier week than this past one, especially since I'm still sick. Thanks for your patience!

Roy's skill improved rapidly, and Riza watched him with a mixture of pride and sadness. Even though he had promised not to leave until the last possible minute, the better he got, the closer he was to leaving. Dusk fell around them, but Roy's bonfire kept her warm as he practiced shooting flames that coiled high into the sky, occasionally looping them into shapes or spelling words. All the while, he continued to readjust the positon of the lighter against his palm so it didn't slip out of his hand.

"Is there something else you could use?" Riza asked when he nearly dropped it for the third time that evening.

Roy shrugged. "I have five of them so if one runs out or if I lose it, it doesn't matter." He reached into his pocket to show her the other four lighters he apparently kept on his person at all times, each with increasingly simple renditions of the sigil he had copied from her back. The one he held in his right hand was the simplest of all: a mass of circles and triangles with a salamander near the bottom and flames on the top.

"If you dropped it, you could hurt yourself." Riza watched him with a serious expression in her eyes. The firelight exaggerated the shadows on his face, and she could tell he was embarrassed by her concern. She had already asked him not to die for his choice to join the military, and here she was skirting the same uncomfortable topic again.

Roy pursed his lips for a moment. "Did you have something in mind?"

She shook her head. "Nothing specific. I just thought it would be better if you had something that was more secure in your hand."

"Like stitching the lighter into a glove?" Roy asked. "Or maybe… You know that one sundress you have? The one that always wraps around your legs until you peel it away?" He waited for her to nod before he continued, "What if I used something like that? Except instead of creating static every time I moved, I altered the fabric so the friction came from rubbing against itself instead of against my skin."

"That's a brilliant idea." Scooting across the grass to close what little distance remained between them, Riza kissed his cheek. He twisted so he could kiss her back, placing an arm around her and tenderly stroking her hair as their lips moved together.

They broke apart and Roy leaned down to nuzzle her neck. "Remember the meteor shower?" he asked.

Riza nodded her head against his. "What about it?"

"What you said that night, about heroes and lovers and how you people should choose what they want," he said, and his breath against her neck along with the words made her heart speed up.

"Are you saying I'm more important to you that your goals?" she asked.

"No, I'm saying that I want to be a hero and I want to be yours. I'll always come back to you safe, Riza. I want to be with you, and so I will. I'll do anything to get back to you, so don't you worry about me if I get called off to war." As he stroked her hair, Riza wondered if he knew what she was planning and was trying to dissuade her. She had already sent her application off, and if he had seen it, he might be waiting for her to bring it up herself. After all, his own lack of care with his acceptance letter had gotten him kicked out the first time. He knew how important privacy could be.

 _And if he does know,_ Riza thought, breathing deeply, _he doesn't have the right to be upset that I'm keeping secrets. He kept his very well up until the end._ All she said was, "I'll hold you to it. I don't want to lose you."

"You won't." He brought his lips back up to hers, sealing their pact with a slow kiss. She wanted to believe him, and she almost did with the taste of his tongue against her own. Her heart thudded painfully as she wondered if stars were all they would ever be, if the only kind of story she would get was the one she had never wanted.

When they stopped kissing, she shifted to rest her head in his lap. It was a good way to avoid looking at him as she struggled to keep her decision a secret, and as he played with her short hair, she wondered why she was so determined to hide it from him when the rest of their relationship was so intimate. At first, she had simply been afraid of hurting him when he had sounded so excited about their future together. Now, she realized he might have tried to talk her out of it back then.

Tonight, however, removed from that initial excitement, with the knowledge that they would soon be parted again, she was more afraid that he wouldn't try to talk her out of it. He would respect her choices because he loved her, she knew, but a small part of her wished he could come up with a convincing argument for her not to go. She could become an army nurse and his wife at the same time, but he wouldn't suggest that. He would put on a smile and tell her that if that's what would make her happy, then he would support her, and then he would go back to Central with a broken heart that she wouldn't be there to mend and find the ring she would never wear. No, it was better this way. She wanted to give him as many happy days as she could.

"You're cold," Roy said. "We should go home."

"It's such a lovely night, I can last a little longer," she protested.

He caressed her face with the backs of his fingers. "I'd rather we were both nice and warm in bed than shivering out here."

Without moving her from his lap, he reached out for a stick and sketched a circle in the ground. He put a hand on it and dirt smothered their bonfire, leaving them in darkness for a few moments while their eyes adjusted to the starlight. The moon was new, but the sky was clear enough for them to see the way home.

* * *

 

In the morning, Riza woke when Roy shoved the covers back. Somehow, he had managed to take his arms from around her while she was still asleep. She clutched the blankets to block out the morning chill, but Roy was already trying to coax her out of bed and into the shower so they could get to work examining fabrics.

She blinked away the last of her sleep, shaking her head at Roy as he knelt beside her, seemingly oblivious to his current state of dress. _Or undress_ , she supposed, stifling laughter at the earnestness on his face. She shooed him away and got out of bed, still smiling to herself. He looked so happy that she couldn't help it. It was infectious.

Once they had cleaned up and eaten breakfast, they raided Riza's father's closet. Since there was no one left to wear the clothes and no practical way of selling them, they made the perfect test subjects. Roy sketched out a transmutation circle on the floor while Riza sorted the clothing by texture. His high spirits seemed somewhat dampened by his concentration as he rubbed each material against itself and against every other material. When he reached the one silk shirt Berthold had owned, he stopped.

"This is what I want my gloves made out of," he said.

"Roy, that's silk. It's not going to make sparks with itself, and it's expensive," Riza said, the last part slipping out from habit even though she knew that, as a State Alchemist Roy could afford as much silk as he pleased.

"Not if I thread something through it. With alchemy, I could make electrical wire as thin as the threads of this shirt."

Riza simply nodded, trying not to think of the cost. After months of living on his dime, it should have been easy by now. "I think he kept those metal blocks up in the attic. Would you like me to get them?"

"That would be perfect. Thank you." He gave her a kiss on the cheek and she stood.

A few moments later, she returned with the three copper blocks from which he had once transmuted a figure of her. She placed them on the transmutation circle alongside the shirt Roy had already laid out.

"I remember these," Roy said with a nostalgic grin. "I bet I could make an even nicer version of you."

"She'd better have clothes if you do," Riza said dryly.

Roy laughed, shaking his head. "I think you're the one with your mind in the gutter. I was imagining how beautiful you'll look in a wedding dress."

That sent a twinge of guilt through her. "Just make the gloves. I'm curious to see how well they'll work."

"You don't have any platinum, do you?" he asked. "It would work better, and it wouldn't stand out as much since it's the same color as this shirt."

"Roy, my father was dying. I sold everything we had of value except his alchemy texts in order to keep us alive," she said, somewhat taken aback that he would even ask such a thing.

"Of course, how foolish of me. Sorry." He closed his eyes, concentrating hard as he placed his hands on the edges of the circle. When the transmutation was finished, two gloves rested in a hole where the back of the shirt had been and one of the copper blocks was slightly smaller than the others. Roy picked up the gloves gingerly and put one on. He snapped experimentally and Riza could see tiny sparks appear between his thumb and forefinger.

"Perfect," he said.

"Are you going to transmute the circle now?" she asked.

"Too risky," he said. "I've never tried transmuting something that already has a circle on it."

"It can be done. My tattoo—"

"All the more reason not to transmute a circle onto these gloves in front of you. You don't know how to embroider, do you?"

Riza shook her head. "I never even considered it. I can sew a split seam or add a patch, and that's all I've ever needed to do."

"I can teach you, if you like," he said. One look at her face and he added, "Or not. Right, the tattoo. I'm sorry." He pressed her hand apologetically. It seemed as though he had planned on this in advance, as he only had one needle with the thread he pulled from his pocket.

After a few stitches, Riza had to stop watching his work, flinching with every mark the needle made in the fabric, her back prickling with phantom pain. Roy seemed to sense her distress; he stopped and set his work aside to pull her into his arms. "I'll do this when you're not around," he said. "I'll let you sleep in and I'll work on it every morning until you get up."

She nodded against his chest, soothed by the gentle pressure of his hands stroking her back. She had to be stronger than this if she was going to be a soldier. She couldn't flinch every time something reminded her of the past. _As Roy's wife, it wouldn't matter,_ a quiet part of her mind whispered. _You would want for nothing, and he would always comfort you at times like this._ Hot tears stung the corners of her eyes but she blinked them away and swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Are you going to be alright?" Roy asked, voice heavy with concern.

"I—I'm fine. Maybe we should get some fresh air today instead of sitting around in this room." As she spoke, she realized that the last time he had held her like this in here had been the night of her father's death and she had to fight off another wave of the same unease that Roy's embroidery had set off in her.

"I understand. Come on, Riza, I know just the place." He helped her up and led the way into the woods, across the bridge they had built, and downstream. He had to backtrack a few times to find what he was looking for, a place Riza should have guessed: the raspberry patch.

"It's much too early," she said when they arrived in the clearing.

Roy shrugged. "I didn't bring you here to pick raspberries. I just thought it was a nice place. This is where we spent our first day as friends. And no soldiers this time, except for me."

In the shade of the trees with their new leaves, Riza shivered slightly. "I never would have guessed back then that things would turn out the way they have."

"What do you mean? Us, your father, the reason I left?"

"All of it," Riza said. "That he would die so soon or how I would feel about you. And certainly not that you would become a soldier, especially not on that particular day." She slumped down on the grass, legs curled under her, and Roy followed. "But it makes sense now why you said the things you did, why you said he wasn't a real soldier."

"I was scared back then, of losing you if he took you away, or losing you when I told you my plans. We hadn't even been friends for more than a day, and I was already thinking about forever, at least at the back of my mind." He buried his nose in her hair, breathing in deeply, as though her shampoo were the sweetest scent imaginable. "I'm so glad I didn't. I never want to lose you again. Maybe you could come to Central with me straight away, take care of everything here later."

"You know I can't do that," she said. "I'd hate for you to be distracted when you need to prepare for your examination. Besides, didn't you say you wanted to get a nice place first?"

Roy laughed. "Always so practical. I love that about you, no matter how infuriating it is sometimes. Like now. I love everything about you: the way you laugh, the noises you make in your sleep, that thing you do with your tongue when we—"

"Stop it, Roy," Riza said. She had no desire to hear him extol her virtues when she was hiding things from him. It felt bad enough to keep secrets, and worse that Roy was back to seeming completely oblivious to them.

"Come on, there's not a soul around. I told you, the only soldier here is me, and I'm very much in love with you." He shifted to kiss her cheek, then her lips, and the comfort that followed the gentle pressure wrapped Riza up like one of those thick blankets she'd never been able to afford. She knew she couldn't afford this one either.

"I'm very in love with you, too," she said, resting her forehead against his. And just because they had so little time left, she kissed him again.


	51. Last Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay! This is the last chapter before the epilogue and I'd like to thank all of you who've read and reviewed over the past two years. You've helped me so much, both in motivating me to write and giving me something to look forward to when school and life had me down.
> 
> Once again, this is the SFW version, so for the full version, check my tumblr later this afternoon. (And possibly my author page in the future. I'm thinking of uploading a collection of the NSFW chapters on here.)

Riza's heart seemed to have made a permanent home for itself in her throat. She had watched Roy spend the past two days carefully selecting alchemy texts from her father's library and placing them in an extra suitcase she had found for him. And for dinner the night before, she had felt herself melt a bit when he had lit candles for a romantic dinner with a snap of his fingers. The embroidery on the gloves was impeccable, considering it had taken him only four days of working while Riza was asleep. The two weeks of practice he had had with them had paid off as well, although she had known for ages that he was good with his hands. She wondered if he would have perfected this technique sooner had she been guiding him the way she did after hours.

Now they sat on her bed, a chessboard spread between them. They had played only a few times since his return, having preferred to spend Roy's study breaks exploring their relationship. With only one day left, Riza felt a twinge of regret. She had missed playing with him the way they had so often during the beginning of their friendship. This had been important once, and to her, it was more enjoyable than talking about a wedding she knew wouldn't happen for many long years to come, if ever. Capturing Roy's pieces never left the acrid taste of regret in her mouth.

"I suppose it makes sense that you're better than me," Roy said after three straight losses.

"Because I learned from a master?" she asked.

"No," he said, "because the king's essentially useless and the queen's the best piece on the board."

Riza felt her pulse turn erratic for a moment, thinking of how, no matter how useful she was, the queen's purpose was the same as that of the other pieces: to protect the king. There was far more to her than that, of course, but she still didn't like how close Roy kept skirting to the application she had sent off. "You aren't useless," she said.

"I am when it comes to chess."

When he had lost for the fourth time, he got off the bed and walked around the room to stretch his legs. He paused to look out the window and Riza could see a painful nostalgia in his face, even in profile. Getting up as well, she went to his side, wrapping her arms around him and resting her chin on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"This view," he said, and the words sounded almost like a sigh. "I remember the first night I came here and looking out over your yard, wondering how I'd ever get used to how quiet it is, and now I'm going to miss this room. I never would have guessed when I was swatting moths after leaving the window open all evening that this would be the bed I'd lose my virginity in, nor that it would be to the weird girl who picked me up at the train station."

"Weird?" Riza demanded.

"Shy, but not exactly polite. And with shorter hair than I've ever seen on a girl. I thought it looked nice on you, though. Still do." He extracted his arm from her embrace and reached up to ruffle her hair.

"I thought you were an arrogant city boy until you offered to help with dinner. Then I just thought you were a clueless city boy," she said, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

"And now?"

"You're still a city boy."

He turned from the window to kiss her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She adjusted hers up to his neck and pulled herself up to wrap her legs around him. One day left until he had to catch the train back to Central and it was already half gone. She could taste urgency on his lips, in his mouth. All the time they would lose before they saw each other again seemed to be in this kiss, and she tried to reciprocate with the span she knew would be much, much longer than Roy knew.

With the chessboard taking up the center of the bed, they remained like this until Roy's arms began to grow tired, and he let her down so they could clear the pieces and turn down the covers. They got into bed, but when they kissed again, the fire had gone out of it, leaving their lips tender and hesitant as they held each other.

"I love you," Roy said, smoothing her short hair behind her ear. "I don't want to go."

"I don't want you to go either," she said, "but what's more important: this country or me?"

Roy smiled sadly. "Sometimes, the easy answer is you, as much as I hate to admit it. But then I remember you'd never accept that." He kissed her again but she was so surprised by his answer she forgot to kiss him back and he stopped, puzzled. "I'm not going to give up my goals and elope with you or anything. I'll get on the train tomorrow like a good soldier."

"I'm proud of you, you know."

"I haven't even gotten my state license yet," he said, rubbing his nose against hers.

Riza kissed him. "You will."

The bed creaked as she rolled on top of him, untangling her hands from his hair and moving them down to his hips, stroking his body lightly on the way until he shivered under her touch. One last day and she felt desire bubbling inside her as she untucked his shirt. Desire mingled with love and heartache and so many other emotions she didn't dare allow near enough to the surface to describe properly. It felt as though she had taken for granted every day she had shared with Roy, both before his original departure and since his return.

Seemingly able to sense what she was thinking, Roy reached up to cup her face. "We still have today," he said. "And then the rest of our lives. It won't be long."

She let out a sad sigh.

"Riza, what's wrong?" he asked, dark eyes filled with concern.

"There's something I need to tell you. I should have told you a long time ago, but I didn't want to hurt you," she said. "I should've told you right at the start, because it's only going to hurt worse now." She sank down against his chest, stroking his face as she tried to comfort him in advance.

He brushed her hair away from her face. "It's obviously been hurting you, and I've been a fool not to notice until tonight. I'm so sorry, Riza, whatever it is, you can tell me now."

Drawing a deep breath, she closed her eyes. "I've applied to the Eastern Military Academy."

"You what?" Roy asked, surprise winning out over hurt in his voice, but only just. "I'm sure you'll be accepted. They'd be idiots not to take you."

"I'm sorry," she said. "With everything that's happened, I feel like such a fraud. It was nice to pretend that we could have a fairytale, keeping everything else locked away at the back of my mind. I do want to marry you, Roy, truly, I do."

"I know," he said, stroking her back. "I know you do, but I should have known you better than to think you could listen to everything I've said about protecting this country and be one to sit idly at home waiting on me to come back from a war I might not survive."

"When I graduate, I want you to request me as part of your staff. You'll be a State Alchemist. They'll listen to you." She opened her eyes again to see Roy had closed his tight, the way he always did when he was trying to find the solution to a complex problem.

"We won't be able to do this anymore," he said. "If you work under someone else, we might be able to get away with it, but as my subordinate, it would be against the law." His voice sounded pained, choked, and it made Riza's heart ache.

She shook her head even though she knew he wouldn't see it. "We could keep it a secret, and when we retire, I'll marry you. It'll just be a longer engagement than most."

"What if I die?" he asked. "Worse, what if you die?"

"That's why we have to work together. I watch your back; you watch mine. You've said it yourself: we're a perfect team." She shifted to embrace him as best she could while lying on top of him, and he rolled so they lay side by side, pulling her into his arms as well.

For a long while, he remained silent, eyes open now as he drank in her features even more desperately than he had before, when he had thought the time that would separate them would be measured in months rather than in years. "It'll take some work, but I'll pull as many strings as I have to. If this is the life you want, I'll help you get it."

Relief swept over her. "You aren't worried about me?"

"Of course I'm worried about you, but no more worried than you are about me. It wouldn't be fair of me to be upset with you for doing the same thing I did." He kissed her forehead, holding his lips against it for several moments. "I can send my mother's ring to you once I get back to Central if you like. It can be a promise."

"Keep it until I see you again," she said. "I'll have enough of a chore hiding my tattoo in the academy without worrying about a priceless ring, too."

"Speaking of hiding things, the girls at the bar sometimes find themselves in bed with the higher ups. I've heard them gossiping before," Roy said, this time resting his forehead against hers, nuzzling her nose with his own. "It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to be seen taking them out to the theater and let it turn into a reputation. The top brass doesn't have to realize that I'm just a caring brother who wants to hear the juicy details."

Riza shook her head. "If you're a womanizer, won't they be more likely to suspect you of having an illicit relationship with me?"

"Not if you're openly disdainful. What kind of strong military woman who's had to deal with casual office sexism is going to think highly of a boss who's seen with a different woman each night and acts like it's just an amusement? You're not the type to fall for someone like that," Roy said, and of course he was right. She had fallen for the sweet, sometimes awkward, but always considerate earnest young alchemist in bed beside her, not some woman's man who threw lovers away on a whim. It certainly wouldn't be a stretch for her to be disdainful of someone like that, even if she knew it was all an act.

Riza smiled for the first time since revealing her plans. "And no one would dare accuse you of being faithful."

"For the rest of my life," he promised, "my heart will belong to you. It'll just be a bit of my time and money that I have to spend elsewhere."

"What kind of girlfriend would I be if I begrudged you spending those things on your own family?" she teased, leaning in for a kiss.

He kissed her back, sweet and lingering, as his fingers caressed the back of her neck. "We'll get through this. We'll be together eventually, and I'll write to you as often as I can until then. We can even correspond through Christmas once you get to the Academy to keep anyone from finding out." It sounded as though he was trying to reassure both of them.

"I'll write to you as well. And it still won't be long before we see each other again, only a couple of years."

"Sounds like a long time to me," he said sadly. "I'm going to miss you. I can't hear you laugh or sing through a letter, and I can't hold you if you're upset." As though it could make up for all the future moments he would miss, Roy held her even tighter, and Riza returned the gesture. Telling him might have eased her conscience but it had done nothing for her heartache. In fact, knowing she had hurt him had only worsened it.

Riza burrowed her face into his neck. "You haven't changed your mind about eloping yet, have you?"

"Of course not. I already told you I'm not going to throw everything away for some childish fantasy, and I certainly couldn't ask you to throw your dreams away for it." One of his hands moved from her back to her head to play with her hair.

"Thank you," she whispered. She moved to kiss him but he turned his head as soon as it turned passionate. "What is it?"

"Can we have dinner first?" he asked. "If this is going to be our last night for a long time, I want to take you on one last date, and I'd rather wait to have sex until after."

"Of course," she said, sitting up.

They changed into clothes that hadn't been rumpled by lying in bed, and Roy helped Riza fasten her pearls when he noticed she was struggling to get the ends together behind her neck. "You're sure you're alright with this?" he asked, apparently mistaking her fumbling for nerves.

"It's the last chance we'll have for god knows how long," she said, though a small part of her wanted to take back everything she had said tonight and just live the simple life Roy had planned for them. If she had thought to send an application to Central's university, she might have done just that.

The familiar comfort of his hand in hers as they walked to town set her completely at ease again. Nothing would separate them forever, she knew, and even though they had precious little time until his train left tomorrow, someday, they would have all the time in the world. She pressed her arm against his and he squeezed her hand.

"Would you like to come to Central this summer?" he asked.

"I'd love to, but I can't. Won't you be busy establishing your reputation by then?" She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"You could be part of it," he said, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. "No one will think twice about who you are if you're just another part of the parade of women I've taken on dates."

"I don't really like the sound of that," she whispered. Of course Roy would be taking people he knew well, but the fact that they would be forgettable to anyone else made her sad. Of course it was a display, but they would be actresses, not props, and Riza had no intention of being seen as a prop herself.

Roy leaned over to kiss the top of her head. "It'll be alright. I've been away for three years. It'll be nice to spoil my family. I just wish I could spoil you, too."

With her free hand, she reached up to touch the pearls around her neck. "You already have. I really can't thank you enough for everything you've done."

He kissed her again. "You don't have to. I know you would have done the same for me if our positions were reversed, and you've already given me something more valuable than I could ever give you."

"Forget about alchemy you would have figured out yourself if it had died with my father; you gave me the friendship I needed and the love I've always wanted."

"Alchemy aside," Roy said, squeezing her hand, "that would only make things even. Riza, I know I said I won't try to talk you out of anything, but that doesn't mean I'm not scared to death of losing you. You mean more to me than anything. If you asked me to swear off alchemy forever, I—"

Shaking her head, Riza cut him off, "I couldn't do that anymore than you could ask me to give up the path I chose. I'm not the same, stupid kid I was, talking about lovers in the stars. I understand them now. And if I could protect you in life, and only be with you in death, that would be enough for me."

"You were never stupid. You were right. We'll be together, Riza; we already promised that we would. It will just take longer." He sounded upset again, as though her words had brought his fears straight to the surface, of losing her, of dying himself, and Riza cuddled closer to him as reassurance for both of them, though she didn't quite agree that she hadn't spoken out of ignorance. After spending more than half her life taking care of someone else, she had wanted the chance to be selfish, to stay with her then-faceless lover through all obstacles—consequences be damned—just like in one of the cheap romances she had packed away in Roy's absence. At least "together in secret" had a better ring to it than "together in death," but she had long forgotten what it felt like to be as naïve as she had been on the night of the meteor shower.

They stopped at a different restaurant than the one Roy had taken her to on their previous dates. This one was set back in an alley and lively music spilled out into the night. The place was small with only one other table full. Riza liked it better than the other restaurant already.

"Ever had Aerugan food?" Roy asked as they waited to be seated.

Riza shook her head. "I don't think so."

"I've had it plenty of times in Central. Do you think I could get away with dinner meetings and take you to all my favorite restaurants, Aerugan and otherwise, once you're my subordinate?" he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"If you're constantly taking women on dates to restaurants, don't you think that would give us away?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I'd be taking them to the kinds of restaurants you need reservations for, not the back alley places I'd take you."

Riza's lips twitched slightly. "Nothing says secret affair quite like a rendezvous in a back alley."

"You have it backward. If anything, the affairs would be—ah, yes, table for two please," Roy said when he noticed the waitress standing beside them. They turned from each other to follow her, exchanging a glance of relief when she acted as though she hadn't overheard any of their conversation.

The waitress placed menus and silverware on the table and Roy and Riza took their respective seats. As soon as she had gone back to the kitchen for their drinks, Roy gave Riza a sheepish smile.

"Sorry about that," he said. "You're right. It would be pretty stupid for the two of us to be seen in public on a date, even if we tried to pretend it wasn't one." Sadness had crept back into his voice by the end of the sentence and his eyes were downcast, focused on nothing in particular. This was something he needed time to come to terms with, which only made her feel worse about waiting. He would have endless hours on the train back to Central tomorrow with no one there to comfort him.

 _Maybe I should go. Just for a little while, like he suggested. I can always come back._ She shook her head to clear away those thoughts. Would she really come back? Or would she lose her nerve and simply stay in Central, become Roy's wife instead of taking the hard path? It was better for her to stay behind, no matter how much she longed to accompany him.

Roy looked up then, as though reading her thoughts. His smile didn't reach his eyes, but then, she would have been surprised if it did. "Riza, I know neither of us can forget what's going to happen, but can we at least pretend that everything's going to be alright? You look miserable, and I feel shitty myself, but if this is what we're going to have to hold onto while we're apart, I want tonight to be a good one."

The waitress returned with two glasses of water before Riza could reply. "Have you had enough time to decide?" she asked.

Riza looked down at the menu for the first time. "I need a few more minutes," she said. Once again, the fare was unfamiliar, but at least this time, there were descriptions beneath each item.

Roy gave his own menu a cursory glance as the waitress left again. "You ever had pizza before?" he asked.

"Not since I was a kid," she said. "Is that what you want?"

"If you'll split it with me. Of course, if there's something you'd rather have instead, I don't mind picking something else." He took a sip of water, looking at Riza with sad eyes that seemed to be drinking in every change in her face as she considered his suggestion.

"I thought you said we were going to pretend everything was fine," she said, giving him a half-smile. It was all she could manage.

Roy forced a smile that mirrored hers. "Right, you're right. Sorry."

When the waitress returned, Riza gave a tiny nod and Roy ordered a pizza for them to split.

Arms tight around each other, they walked home. The moon was veiled by thin clouds, but it still gave them enough light to see by. Roy caressed Riza's waist gently, his fingers gentle as he traced his fingers down over her stomach to the curve of her hip. By the time they made it through the door, she could hardly stand to wait any longer, and she turned to kiss him. His lips were soft and hesitant against hers, and he put his arms around her, holding her as though she might vanish at any moment. They pulled away, breathless and smiling, to rub their noses together.

"I love you," he said, moving to nuzzle her neck. He pressed kisses to it, hands roaming lower on her back.

Riza stroked his hair. "And I love you," she said. "To bed?"

"Bed," he agreed, giving her neck one last, rough kiss.

They paused halfway up the stairs to kiss again while Riza made quick work of Roy's shirt buttons. He shrugged the garment off, tossing it back over the railing before pressing himself into Riza, who sank back into the wall, eyes closing with pleasure as he deepened the kiss. A part of her wished he would lift her skirt then and there, push into her for a new experience. Someday. There were so many things that would have to wait until then, but this wasn't the time to dwell on regrets. She would have plenty of time to do that once he was gone.

She slipped her hands between them, caressing his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles so her fingertips could commit them to memory. His mouth was demanding against hers now, and she could feel his heart facing beneath her hands as his own moved to her hips to lift her, using the wall for support until she could wrap her legs around him. Still kissing her with a feverish intensity, Roy carried Riza the rest of the way up the stairs. At the landing, she lowered her legs from his waist and he set her on the floor gently, saying, "I love you," against her lips.

They kicked off their shoes, arms still around each other, and Roy tugged Riza's dress over her head, careful to keep it from catching on the pearls she wore.

"I guess I didn't need these after all," she said, running a finger over their coarse surfaces.

Roy shrugged. "We didn't know where we'd end up."

"Have we ever?" she teased.

Instead of laughing, Roy looked as though he was about to cry.

"Hey, now, everything's alright, remember? Take your pants off while I put these away." Riza unfastened her necklace.

"Those are two sentences I don't think I ever expected to hear together," Roy said, doing as she asked and struggling to follow her into the bedroom with his pants around his ankles. He kicked them off in the doorway while she placed the necklace carefully in her nightstand drawer.

In an instant, his arms were around her again, his lips pressed against hers, and as he backed her onto the bed, Riza finally felt herself start to buy the act she had been trying to put on. Roy undid her bra with an ease he hadn't managed before. "I love you," he said into her mouth, the sadness fading from his voice.

She lay back, settling into her pillow. "I love you, too."

Straddling her, Roy pulled away from the kiss. He looked at her for a moment, the old glint back in his eyes. "I know you've said you'd want to keep your last name, but would it be alright if I tried out Mrs. Mustang tonight?"

"Only if I can call you Mr. Hawkeye."

"Mr. Hawkeye was your father, so I'm going to have to go with 'no'."

Riza shrugged. "Suit yourself. If you really want to pretend we're already married, there's a ring somewhere in my nightstand."

Roy rolled off her so fast it was almost insulting. As he rifled through the drawer, she ran her fingers down his side, traced the lines of his hip, sat up to caress his thigh. He was so familiar under her touch, so solid, and she felt secure just lying beside him while he grew increasingly distracted in his attempts to find the iron band she had found inside a fish. It didn't seem so romantic anymore. "Hey, Roy," she said, moving her hand back up to his shoulder instead, "if you want to think of me as your wife, that's all you have to do. You don't need a ring."

"I just hope that helps the wait seem shorter." He pushed the drawer shut and moved again to straddle Riza, one hand cupping her face as he kissed her. His eyes fluttered open when he pulled away, so full of love and warmth she might have missed the sadness underneath if she hadn't known it was there. "Permission to touch you freely?"

Riza cracked a smile at that. "Are you already trying to prepare me for what foreplay will be like as a soldier?" she teased.

"I thought it might make things more interesting. Permission?"

"Ouch. I think you've been reading too many men's magazines if just imagining me as your wife made that necessary." When a panicked expression crossed Roy's face, she rubbed his chest reassuringly. "I'm kidding. Permission granted."

He ran his hands up her back, tangled them in her hair, and pulled her in for another kiss. Slow and deep, it almost healed the ache in her heart—and after, when they had cleaned up and lay in each other's arms, just listening to each other breathing, she could still taste his lips on hers.

As she snuggled closer to his chest, she could feel his heart beating faster than it normally did when they cuddled. She looked up and he smiled sadly. "I don't want to go to sleep," he said.

"You need your rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day," she said, fighting to keep her voice from breaking.

"If I could go back, I would've hidden that stupid letter. We could've had so much time. Your father might have taught me flame alchemy himself at the end and then I would've stayed and—" The lump in his throat stopped him. He swallowed hard, but before he could continue, Riza put a finger over his lips.

"Let's not dwell on things we can't change. I love you, no matter how long we'll be apart this time. Remember that instead."

"I love you, too." Tears formed at the corners of his eyes, and even though part of her told her to pretend she didn't see, Riza wiped them away. "I'm sorry. I told myself I wouldn't." He chuckled and buried his face in her hair to hide the rest of his tears, though she could feel every one.

"You don't have to be strong for me." She kissed his neck; her own throat felt tight and she knew tears would fall if she let them, but she wasn't going to this time. Swallowing down the lump, she began to sing instead.

* * *

 

Sunlight stained Riza's eyelids, and she closed them hard, pressed herself closer to Roy. He shifted, arm tightening reflexively around her. If he was awake, too, there was no sense in stalling, but Riza allowed them five more minutes without even waiting for Roy to ask. They both stirred at the same time, and that was when Riza opened her eyes at last, breaking what remained of last night's act. Roy was looking at her as lovingly as ever while he caressed her back. Neither spoke, for fear that the words wouldn't come out past the new lumps in their throats, but looks and touches and nods were all they needed to get up and into the shower. The steam loosened their lips enough for them to kiss, but it wasn't until they cleaned up their breakfast dishes that Roy broke the silence between them.

"We had one morning left to talk and look what happened," he said sadly.

"We can talk in letters." It was a terrible thing to say, she knew, but she couldn't keep her voice steady to finish by reminding him that the important thing was that they were still touching, and that, for her, those touches said more than words she couldn't find.

He shook his head. "It won't be the same. I'm terrified I'll forget your voice."

"You won't," she said. "We won't be apart that long." It was a wish more than a fact. Part of her was terrified that it would take too long to find each other again, and that she would forget his voice as well. At least they had pictures to remember each other's faces by.

Roy packed his dirty clothes into his case and carried it downstairs with Riza trailing behind him, making certain he hadn't left anything behind. They left the house hand in hand, fingers laced tight and arms pressed together. At least they were talking again, as easily as ever. About all the places Roy wanted to show her once she transferred to Central under his command—accompanied by his Academy friends, of course. Riza talked about her plans to ship the books Roy wanted to his new apartment and her worries about finding one of her own with only the money from selling the rest of the books and her childhood home. She even confided in him that she hoped a happy family would buy it, one that wouldn't fall apart the way hers had.

Roy squeezed her hand. "If you can't find anyone, I'll see if Erica wants to move to the country. She got engaged just before I came here."

Riza nodded, not sure if she was relieved or sad that he hadn't made some offhand remark about he wished that happy family could have been theirs.

The road to town had never seemed so short. They reached the station before she knew it, and it took all her strength to keep her eyes dry at the sight of the train waiting there. It was already the last call.

"So this is it," Roy said, setting his case on the ground to pull her into a tight embrace.

Riza hugged him back. "It seems like you just got here."

"All aboard! Train departing in two minutes!" the conductor shouted from so near that they both winced.

Roy swept Riza's bangs away from her eye. "I have to go now. I love you, Riza Hawkeye." He kissed her the way he had last night, though this time, the tenderness was tempered with urgency, and she could feel her throat tighten with every motion of their frantic lips.

"I love you, too. Now go catch your train." Her voice sounded hollow, but at least she wasn't crying yet.

Roy held onto her hand until their fingertips couldn't reach anymore. The whistle blew just as Riza retracted her arm. The door closed, hiding Roy from view, and the train pulled away. If Roy found a window to wave from, she didn't know. She ran from the station, all the way past the church, and on the privacy of the deserted road, she finally allowed herself to cry.


	52. Epilogue

East City, August 23rd, 1905

Life always seemed to unravel slowly. Both of her parents' illnesses. Her father's slow descent into madness. And now the letters. Her time with Roy had been a long goodbye, and it had only exacerbated her heartbreak when he really left.

The letters seemed like an amends at patching up the time they had wasted waiting for it to run out, too frightened of the rapidly approaching future to do everything they meant. Words filling in the minutiae of their respective lives filled Riza's time outside her new job as a waitress in East City. It wasn't much, but it kept food on the table while she waited for the Academy's term to start. Roy always had a sympathetic word for her when she dealt with rude customers, but lately, his letters had come farther apart.

She knew he was busy with his new duties as a major, but when she had asked about his personal life, he spoke only of his fake dates and visits home. His reputation was growing, even if it was overshadowed by his being the youngest State Alchemist in history. When he had gotten the news, He had sent a letter right away, and a large part of his pay, which Riza had returned to him.

But now, at the end of August, she hadn't had a letter in two weeks. They had slowed from the original almost daily letters they had exchanged at the beginning, but not hearing from Roy at all troubled her. Surely he knew she wouldn't be starting at the Academy for another week.

She would have written to remind him of that if she hadn't seen the headline of the newspaper the next morning. Riots in Central. People were protesting the War in Ishval and the military had been brought in. With a sense of dread bubbling in her stomach, Riza purchased a copy and read it on her lunch break.

She had to go home early, complaining of an upset stomach. It was true, technically. When firing guns into the crowd hadn't deterred anyone, a State Alchemist had been brought in. Just thinking about it now made Riza want to throw up. She tossed the newspaper on the fire, along with the letter she had begun the night before.

Orders were orders, and no one had been killed, but the knowledge that Roy-her Roy, the kind and determined boy she had loved so fiercely-had sent people to the hospital made her furious. But as she looked at the soot on her hands from the fire she had started, the guilt sunk in. This time, she couldn't help it. Though she hadn't thrown up since she had had had a stomach bug as a little girl, she sent her lunch into the fire as well.

Central, August 24th, 1905

Roy swirled what remained of his bourbon around in the bottle. Just over a third left. He'd have to buy more after work tomorrow. Or maybe he wouldn't go to work at all, depending on the hangover. He'd call in sick and sound the part.

Not even bothering with a glass, he raised the bottle to his lips and drank. When he slammed it down on his desk, only a fourth remained. The force of the glass against the wood knocked the two frames off his desk. He didn't feel the effects of the alcohol yet, and he bent down to retrieve the frames. The first sent him into the bottle again. It was from the academy—Maes Hughes with his arms around both Roy and Heathcliff Erbe. Erbe. What had become of him? He hadn't been a part of yesterday's protest that Roy had seen. He was grateful if it meant his former friend was safe, but all the same, if he had been there, would Roy have had the courage to refuse his orders? At least he had been able to talk his way out of trouble for only injuring a small handful of the people he had been called in to stop. It sounded like his superiors had wanted deaths, but even the gunmen hadn't accomplished that. The people who had been sent to the hospital were in stable condition.

That, he realized, was the only reason he wasn't too upset by the depleted stock of whiskey. If he'd seriously harmed or-god forbid-killed someone, nothing would have stopped him from drinking an entire bottle.

The portion he had drunk had begun to settle over him: a heavy blanket to hide his troubles. He struggled to pick up the second photograph, taking another drink while he knelt on the floor beside it. When he realized what picture this was, he finished the bottle, leaving it on the floor as he concentrated what little coordination he had left on getting the picture safely back on the desk.

He wiped tears from his eyes, though there were none—crying was a luxury he hadn't afforded himself lately—and whispered the name of the girl who stood beside him in the photograph, back when smiling had come easy.

Shit. Riza. He had forgotten all about writing her in the turmoil that had hit his desk lately. And now, what was he supposed to say to her? She had trusted him, and he had fucked it all to hell yesterday. It was all over the papers, too. She would know. At least it would drive her away from the military before it was too late for her, the way it was for him. Maybe he would write a letter begging her to get as far away from this mess as she could. Maybe when he could hold a pen again. Or when he felt less tired. Now he felt like he could sleep for a century, and by then, Riza would have forgotten all about him and found some better life.

Carefully, he pulled himself up, unsteady on his feet the whole way to the couch. He still hadn't bought a bed. Was that because of her? He could remember saying he wanted to wait until she moved to Central so they could break it in together, but that had been a different life, hadn't it? Before he had known that he had dragged her into this mess too.

He fell rather than sat on the couch and pulled a blanket over himself, not particularly bothered by the fact that his bare feet stuck out and that it spilled into a large pile on the floor. Turning it the right way would be too much trouble and he'd already caused enough of that.

He should have run away with her. That much was clear now, but even as his mind grew fuzzier, he knew it was a fool's dream now. No, it was best to push her away as much as he could, even if she would always be there, wedged into his heart—his very soul, if he even had such a thing anymore. It would take more than liquor to drive a love like that out of him.

But as he drifted off to sleep, he knew he would never have the guts to write to her again sober, and he resigned to keep her presence in his mind confined to the photograph on his desk and the voice of his conscience when he followed unquestioningly the orders of the State. He had never had faith in any religion, but if there was any kind of afterlife at all, it was Riza Hawkeye's retribution he feared far more than that of a god he'd never believed in.

In the morning, the splitting pain in his head and the crack in the glass across the necks of his younger self and the girl he hated himself for betraying, for loving, sent him back to the couch without even bothering to call Headquarters to inform them that he would be out sick. He needed one more day to miss her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I'm finally done with this fic. It's been such a huge part of my life for so long, and I'm going to miss writing and updating it. School and life have been a lot harder lately, but I want to keep writing, so I might start up another multichapter Royai fic over the summer. Until then, though, I'd like to thank hawkeyedriza for betaing the first half and all of you for staying with me and reading and reviewing and sending messages. I couldn't have done it without you guys!


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